


I Don't Remember

by TreizeLoves



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky's POV, Captain America - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, OTP: Till the End of the Line, Post TWS, Stucky - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, holiday fic, otp: but i knew him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreizeLoves/pseuds/TreizeLoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty much about Steve and Bucky, with slight appearances from other characters. It's set six months after CATWS.<br/>Kinda fluff, kinda angst, kind of inconsistently written.<br/>Includes:<br/>Bucky forgetting things<br/>An Avengers Thanksgiving<br/>A fluffy snowball fight between Steve and Bucky<br/>Bucky remembering things<br/>Bucky learning about sign language<br/>Steve crying<br/>Natasha cooking traditional Russian cuisine<br/>Tony calling Steve Buns of Freedom<br/>Bucky crying<br/>Kisses<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gunshot

**Author's Note:**

> this fic works under the assumption that Steve decided to get an apartment in New York after months of unsuccessfully looking for Bucky. Sam still lives in D.C.

I sit on the fire escape on the building next door and watch him through the window. He just got back today, he’s tired, his pants are low on his hips because he took off his belt but he’s too sleepy to get them the rest of the way off.

I don’t know what his name is, I think it might be Bucky but that doesn’t feel right in my mouth. I just remember it.

He’s pacing, he’s always pacing, he’s lifting these papers and murmuring puzzles to himself. I know he’s looking for me. He has been for six months.

He thinks I’m in Russia.

The wind whispers in between the buildings and I yield an involuntary shiver. It’s getting cold and I know that it’s winter but I can’t remember the names of the months that go in winter.

It’s very hard now, ever since he came in, before him things used to be very easy to do.

Now my hands shake, I can’t remember anything and I can also remember everything.

I tried to get some answers, some men said he must’ve broken my programming.

One woman said she believes that my programming was never right in the first place.

I killed all of them.

I keep a book now, it’s small and soft and there’s this little laugh in me ‘cause I like things that are small and soft, I think that’s funny. I don’t remember why.

I write in the book every day, I don’t know how, I can’t read it, but I’m really pretty sure that’s it, that’s how writing looks.

Today, I write this:

_It’s cold. Winter is cold. When he is tired, he wears his pants loose._  
No one has come to his home yet, but there were three agents here last week.  
I know they will be back and I know they are not speaking like me, but I understand.  
He paces a lot, but it’s not like what I can remember.  
Pacing is to think, but he can’t think, that’s why he’s pacing..

_Words I remembered today:_

_Sky_   
_Pants_   
_Fancy_   
_Green_

I sleep on the fire escape, that’s where I've been sleeping for a while. Probably months, I believe he came here months ago, I think that’s what my book says, I can’t read it.

The building my fire escape is attached to is vacant, the only thing living there, other than rats, was a homeless man and I killed him, so I could sleep inside, if I wanted to, but I don’t want to, because I can see him better from out here.

Overnight, the fire escape becomes layered in ice. It is a thin layer, but I can no longer control the shivering.

I do not like this feeling.

Today I write:

_The cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad the cold is bad_

The pen has broken in my hand, I am shaking and bleeding, though I don’t remember breaking my skin. The blood is a blessing, it comes out warm and I pull my hand to my cheeks and hope it will warm me there.

The cold makes everything, ah, worse, though, worse is not a strong word, I know I need one that is much stronger but I can’t remember.

The cold makes it very, very hard to remember.

I decide to write down the words I remembered today with a new pen, though my hand is still bleeding and it’s getting blood on the page.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Sick_   
_Hurt_   
_Asthma_   
_Gun_

I sleep in the ice and when I wake up I am not sure I have woken up at all. Sleeping voluntarily is not something I am familiar with.

I’m not sure how I know that. Where am I? Who am I? How did I get here? Where’s Steve? Fuck, how long have I been out, he’s probably frozen half to death by now with no coals in the apartment.

I stand quickly and reach for my keys, but my pockets are full of…pennies? What the hell is this? There’s all kinds of things in my pockets, I don’t even recognize these things. Is this a lighter? Where does the flame come out?

God it’s fucking cold, shit, I better get going.

I head in to the building but it looks wrong. Where the fuck are my keys?

The stairs are busted up, were they like that when I got here? When did I get here? I make a mental note to have less booze next time and brush my hair out of my eyes—what the fuck, my hair.

I pause and inspect my pants. They look ridiculous, they must not be mine. I smirk, they’re probably Jake’s, God how cute he is all flustered. Why can’t I talk to Steve like I talk to him?

“Hey!! You there! Hands up!!”

I jump half out of my skin and throw my hands up. There are two men at the end of the hallway, they look like officers but their uniforms are very casual.

“Are you guys new or something?” I smile as they draw closer but they don’t seem friendly.

“Come on. All the coppers round here know me. I don’t recognize you two and those suits you’ve got there are something else.”

“Nice try, man, you’re not supposed to be here.” The officer pushes me up against the wall and tries to put cuffs around my wrists.

For a split second he glances at my arms and says, “what the—“ but I have broken his neck before he finishes his sentence.

His partner makes a strangled sound, I recognize it as fear. When I turn on him, I twist his arm and bring the barrel of his own gun to his head but I decide against the unnecessary noise and crush his throat with my left hand instead.

The threats have been eliminated.

I look around, I’m inside on the ground floor but I can’t remember why I’m inside, I don’t remember leaving the fire escape.

I take the weapons from the fallen opponents’ holsters and return to my post. Thankfully he has only just awoken, he’s eating some sort of porridge or something, I don’t know if I have never seen it before or if I just don’t remember it.

He sifts through the folders on his kitchen table in between spoonfuls. Again, Bucky comes to mind but I know that’s not his name.

What is his name?

I remain where I am supposed to be all day. The temperature has dropped very low, though I can only guess, the thermometer in my arm is broken, it has been ever since I retrieved him from the river.

For a brief moment I wonder if maybe I should be distancing myself from him. Many things have gone wrong since he came in, perhaps he is a threat, not an object of value.

But I cannot seem to hold that thought in my mind as solid intel, somewhere, just past what I can remember, the intel says he is worth protecting.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Hat_   
_Bite_   
_Flamboyant_

I cannot sleep at all, at least, I cannot remember sleeping. It is too cold.

It’s the worst part of the night, three hours till sunrise at least. It’s so cold I feel as if I cannot move, like my insides are shrinking till they crack.

I fear I will deactivate but then I see three men surrounding his apartment. I recognize them, they are the agents that cased the building while he was gone. They are here to kill him.

I swing down from the fire escape, which takes more effort than I thought it would, my hands are numb.

I take down the first agent with no effort, but the second is harder. Everything is numb.

As the second agent falls, the third shoots and I am hit, middle left abdomen.

I will be fine, I am trained surgically and all the tools I need are with the rest of my weapons, back upstairs.

I am perhaps unnecessarily violent in killing the third agent though. I cannot place why that is, but it happens more and more.

I press my hand to my side to impede the bleeding as much as possible while I climb the stairs back to my post.

I start with disinfectant and reach for tweezers.

I start with disinfectant.

I start with the disinfectant, I know.

I know I must put tweezers in. I know. I know. I know.

There is blood everywhere.

I can’t remember.

My hands are shaking and I cannot tell if it is for death or for cold.

I can’t remember.

There is only one option now.

I force myself to stand, but my body feels far away. I try to run, but I can’t remember how. I can’t feel my feet anyway. I force my body forward, I don’t know how fast I’m going, I know it is not fast enough but I jump anyway.

His fire escape is at least eight feet from mine.

I catch with my good hand, the metal fingers slip slightly on the ice built up on his fire escape but I dig them in.

Now I am hanging. Somewhere in me I understand I am programmed with the strength to pull myself up.

I don’t know how long it takes, but I guess I do.

I don’t want to break his window, I would not like to see him afraid. Instead I carefully slide it open, but I can’t stand anymore so I fall in, on to his floor.

He is home. He rushes over and I stare at him from my spot on the ground.

He looks afraid anyway.

My vision fades to black.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Carpet_   
_Slide_   
_Blue_


	2. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky wakes up in Steve's apartment

When I awaken, I don’t move. At first, I am so tired I would like to never move again. But then I hear voices and I understand that I am programmed to know when stealth is the best way to gain information.

“…was already healing when I left him.”

“You’re sure? I can just wait?”

“Well, honestly, Steve, I’m not sure about anything. He should be dead, but I bet that’s not the first time you’ve heard someone say that.  
I can guarantee that the bullet is out and the wound is clean. That should heal just fine as long as he’s not too rough and the rest of him stays clean, too.  
His hands and feet seem fine, contrary to anything that has ever made sense, all I can imagine is that Hydra injected him with something to keep him from developing frostbite in extreme conditions, it could be some sort of replicate of the serum, considering that worked for you.  
He’s definitely malnourished, I don’t think his metabolism is as necessitous as yours, but still, get some food in to him as soon as possible.  
I’d honestly still like to take a blood sample once he’s in better shape, processing it at the lab could—“

“Tony can’t know about this, Bruce. No one can.”

“I’m doing all I can do, I’m keeping my mouth shut. But secrets don’t last long, especially not with S.H.I.E.L.D. on your tail.”

“I know, believe me, I know.”

“Do me a favor, Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Call Sam.”

I can hear the door open and shut. I can hear him sigh.

I know I can “wake up” now but I am suddenly feeling something very different and awful. Watching him from outside was much easier.

I feel a weight on my chest and I open my eyes.

He has his head resting on my chest, his ear is pressed against my bare skin, his eyes are closed, he doesn’t know I’m conscious.

I don’t understand.

He sits up, suddenly, he blinks at me, he looks afraid again.

It’s not as bad this time, but I can see the fear and I don’t like it.

“Hey,” he just barely whispers it, like anything louder might crack reality. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” he scoots closer, his hands are poised, like he’s ready to fix something.

I do not remember what pain means.

He starts to frown. He appears to be continually checking my face for indicators. “You’re not hurt. You’re confused?”

I do not remember what confused means.

“Shit.” He whispers. “Do I…have to speak Russian?”

I don’t like this. I like watching him from outside. I sit up and he stands, looking prepared for something, though I don’t know what.

He lets me stand but when I walk towards the window, he blocks my path. “You can’t do that!”

I feel like I maybe will need to kill him and I clench my teeth slightly. But then I look up at him. His face is all fear.

“Please don’t go.”

I look around. I can stay, it is not covered in ice in here and I can’t feel the wind and it is definitely not cold.

I swallow and look back at him. I point at him, and I open my mouth but I can’t quite remember how to say it, so I drop my hand and close my mouth again.

He watches me, his eyes show that he is running through a thousand different possibilities but he seems too afraid to speak any of them.

I remember. I point at his chest and I try slowly because I am still so cold and I haven’t spoken in a long time.

“Who…are…you?”

He blinks a little and his eyes look wet but then they go back to normal. He stretches his mouth in a weird way.

“I’m Steve. My name is Steve.” He says hopefully.

I touch the center of his chest. I try it out. “Steve.” That does feel right. That doesn’t feel like Bucky.

He’s quiet, but he seems happier.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Pain_   
_Confused_   
_Who_   
_**Steve**_

I start to fall down just after I say that, so he—Steve makes me lie down in a soft thing that I know I know I just can’t remember.

I sleep for a long time.

But when I wake up, Steve is still there. He’s asleep.

My side is getting close to healed and I left my notebook back by the fire escape in the other building, so I decide to go get it. I don’t want to forget Steve so I have to write about him.

I’m back before Steve wakes up, that’s good because when he comes out of that room he looks scared until he sees me. Then he stretches his mouth again.

“How do you feel?” he says.

I don’t understand this question or I don’t remember the answer. So I stay quiet. He stays quiet too.

He goes in to the other room and makes a phone call, he talks quietly, because he knows I’m listening.

He’s on the phone for a long time.

When he comes back he starts testing. No. I don’t remember. It’s not testing.

“Do you like eggs?”

“Cooking.” That is it, he’s not testing, he’s cooking.

He looks confused. But then he nods. “Yeah, I’m cooking. Do you remember what that means? Sam said you might not remember. He said I should talk to you as much as possible.” He pauses and looks very closely at me. “Is that alright? Can I talk to you, is it okay?”

I’m not sure I understand or remember the answer. I am not sure the answer is something to be remembered. I start sifting through intel.

“Hey,” he says it very gently. He’s watching my face. My face is doing something. And I’m quiet, I've been quiet for too long.

“It is okay.” I say to him, though I don’t look at him, I’m trying to focus. Who is he? I can’t remember.

He looks like he’s in pain. But then he goes back to the stove and he keeps talking. “You used to like your eggs scrambled with the whole damn house tossed in to them. You always gave me your bacon.”

I nod.

“You thought maybe I’d grow up some if I had enough and you said you didn’t want bacon breath anyway.” He makes a small sound, I don’t remember the name of it.

It makes me flinch, but his back is turned so he doesn’t see.

He continues, he talks about a very small apartment and his ma’s cooking and he mentions apple cake. I like it when he talks, I like his voice.

I close my eyes and just listen and what seems like only a moment later I am awoken by the loud thump of my forehead hitting the table as I sag over.

He jumps and turns and he looks very alarmed so I reassure him. “Still functional, sir.”

He looks more upset when I say that but he doesn’t say anything, he sets food down in front of me.

I look at it. It’s a lot.

I can run on less.

“Please eat, Bucky.” He murmurs.

I frown at him, I know he means me, am I Bucky? Now his eyes are wet, I feel something unfamiliar in my chest, something must be malfunctioning. I take a handful of eggs and put them in my mouth.

He gasps and makes that weird noise, I can’t remember the name of it. But I don’t mind it, I don’t mind it, I don’t mind it.

As soon as I can, I eat more eggs, it makes him stretch his mouth.  I pause. There’s eggs on my hands, but I can’t remember, I have to know, I point to his mouth. “That.”

He blinks. “What?”

I struggle. “mouth, улыбка, face,”

“My face? What about it?” he looks desperate and hopeful and I wish I could remember.

“Your mouth.”

“My mouth? Um, teeth? Tongue? Lips?”

I like those words. But they’re not right. I take my fingers and push the corners of my mouth up in to my face to show him.

“Smile?”

“Yes!!” for a moment, I feel, like good, but better. He is smiling, his eyes are still wet but he is smiling very much.

But I have had lots of food. I glance at the plate and look at him. “Done?”

“That’s fine.” He smiles again. “We have to give you a bath anyway.” He makes a strange face when he says that, like he’s not smiling about that.

He takes me into another room and he asks me to take off all my clothes and makes a weird face again. I do so while he fills a tub with water and when he looks back at me he looks very not smiling.

“Hey? You okay? What’s wrong?”

“I am wrong??” my voice doesn’t sound right. It comes out warped and cracked. I want to get away.

“No, no you’re fine, you’re okay, everything’s okay, just…you’re shaking.”

“Shaking.” I close my eyes. I’m not supposed to shake, it shows fear. I focus but I can’t stop. They’re taking my clothes, they’re going to hurt me. I can’t breathe.

His hands touch my hands. He speaks like a voice any louder will break my skull. “Hey,” he murmurs.

I open my eyes. He is close now so I can see the freckles on him. His hands are holding mine and they are soft and warm, though maybe they’re just warm ‘cause he’s always got a fever.

“I remember.” I nod and I let go of his hands so I can step in to the bath. I remember what to do.

He looks smile again, he looks…

I soak my hair, which makes me shake some, but this time the water is so warm and very nice, I don’t shake for very long. He doesn’t bother me, he just sits on the other side of the room and he looks up sometimes when I am making noises, I think? I can’t tell.

“Done?” I say and watch him. He smiles and helps me out and gives me a towel.

“I figure Sam’s clothes will fit you a little better than mine.” He says, handing me very soft folded clothes.

I nod. I don’t know who Sam is but I would very much like to have clothes on so I get dressed.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Bed_   
_Smile_   
_Cooking_   
_Bath_   
_Soft_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I'm working under the assumption that Bruce Banner lives and works in Stark Tower.


	3. Sam and Also Doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets in some interaction with people other than Steve.

I wake up back in the bed. I remembered the word bed last night and I said it and he smiled at me. But now I feel upset. I remember that this is the bed but I don’t remember what he is. Цель. Is he цель?

I hold my head. It hurts.

Then I hear voices and I realize, he is not here with me. He’s in the other room and so is someone else.

I glance out through the door, the door’s open just a little. There is a man out there, he looks concerned and he is talking to…him.

I can’t remember. I hit myself in the head. They both look over and immediately come to the bedroom.

He steps forward first. “Bucky, hey, you okay?”

“Still functional.” I grind my teeth. I feel frustrated. Who is he? “Can you read?” I look up at him. He looks surprised.

“Uh, yeah?”

I push past them both and retrieve my notebook from where I hid it behind a device in the kitchen.

I open it to a certain page while he watches. Then I hand it to him. “Can you read this?”

“Um, well, yeah. I mean I can’t read that part.” He glances at me and adds, “Because it’s in Russian. But I can read this list down here. It says, Words I remembered today: Pain, confused, who, and Steve.”

I can feel it, I can feel myself smiling and it feels strange and hurts my lips but something in my chest must be malfunctioning because everything feels different.

“You’re Steve.” I say to him, I feel excited, I remember what excited means.

He looks excited too, though his eyes are wet. “Yeah, I’m Steve.”

Happy. I clench my fists. I can remember Steve. I can…almost remember Steve. I just have to focus.

“Um, hey,” he—Steve says softly and he touches my shoulder. “This is Sam.”

The other man steps forward and offers me a cautious handshake. I take his hand and look at him but then everything twists, spins, flips.

I am on my knees, I’m on the floor, and I’m throwing up.

Sam and Steve rush around me, I can’t vomit for very long, there’s nothing but yesterday’s eggs and a few snacks inside me.

Steve lifts me back to the bed and Sam brings clean clothes. Sam lets Steve hand them to me though.

They make me drink water before they do anything else. I mean, they ask me. They don’t seem to know how to make me do anything.

But once I've had water I can speak. “I am sorry, I am sorry, he is dead, he is dead, I can’t breathe.” that didn’t come out how I thought it would. My chest is still malfunctioning. I can’t breathe and I’m falling over. Steve is not smiling.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I whisper.

Sam and Steve are talking in hushed voices as fast as they can to each other.

“The last time he saw me, he tried to kill me.” Sam says.

“Same here. He didn’t puke his guts out when he saw me again, though.”

“These things can be fickle, Steve. He may not remember killing you. He may have just remembered guilt today. We don’t know.”

“I know we don’t know,” Steve sounds like he is breaking. “Just—how do we fix it?”

“Steve, I need you to take a breath. I can do everything I know, but we still don’t know how much of your friend is left in there. It may be fruitless.”

Steve takes a very audible deep breath. “Okay. Okay.”

Sam kneels so he is eye level with me while I’m curled up on my side on the bed.

“Hi there.” He says it slowly, he pauses for me to respond but I don’t have anything to say.

“My name is Sam. I know, this is a little confusing, but even though you tried to kill me, I’m not dead.”

He pauses again. He gives me time to answer.

“Just like Steve. We both survived—“

“I saved Steve.” I interrupt. I didn’t mean to.

Both Sam and Steve make a face and look at each other. Sam seems like he is pretending he’s not smiling.

“Oh really?” Sam says to me.

I nod. “I know I tried to kill him. But then…” I twist my mouth up. “I tried to kill him but he tried to die. I saved him.”

Sam looks at Steve.

Steve is staring at me.

I can’t take the weight, Steve’s eyes are an ocean, I pull the covers over my head and hide.

Sam and Steve leave me alone for a long while.

Eventually I hear Steve’s voice. He gently lifts the edge of the blanket. “Bucky? Would you maybe eat some dinner? Please?”

I nod and sit up. Steve has a plate for me, he talks while I eat.

“I sent Sam away, you don’t have to worry about him, he’s not angry at you, if that’s what you’re afraid of, anyway. He’s not upset.”

“I know. I’m upset. I’m angry at me.”

Steve looks up, he’s watching me closely. Again his eyes make me feel like I am underneath a whole ocean. I try to pull the blanket over my head.

“Please don’t!” Steve reaches for me but he stops short, looking like he didn’t mean to do that.

I listen though. I pull the blanket on to my shoulders instead. I stare at my plate so I can’t tell Steve is looking at me. And I speak, because I know at least that might help Steve a little and I just want to make him smile again.

“I am broken. I’m not supposed to…” I struggle. “Sam should not matter.” I take a deep breath and then a bite of food so I can think. “I didn’t, I didn’t _feel_ this when I killed Sam. And you came in and now…I feel so much. I feel everything. That is how I know I am broken.”

Steve touches my hand very cautiously. But I don’t mind, I like the weight of his hands so much more than the weight of his eyes. “You’re not broken, Buck.” He says very softly.

“Do you feel it?”

“All the time.”

“Did you…kill people?”

“I have, yeah. I even tried to kill myself once.”

I relax, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I did too.”

_Words I remembered today:_

_Ocean_   
_Vomit_   
_Sad_   
_Difficult_   
_Laugh_

I have been staying with Steve for a week now. He seems to be getting happier and happier, save one moment where I cannot remember why but he got very, very sad.

Sam comes around sometimes. I try so hard to be kind to Sam, I feel bad about killing him and also about throwing up.

And Sam is great, he knows how to make Steve smile and laugh when I can’t remember how.

Today, Steve is being very careful with me, he says after breakfast that some people are coming over. He says they would like to look at me, if that’s okay.

I tell him it’s okay.

The people come over midafternoon. They are two men, both are smaller than Steve and have dark hair with a little gray. One has a goatee and one has glasses.

Also one looks very afraid of me and the other has eyes that look the way a hug feels.

“Bucky, this is Tony Stark and this is Bruce Banner. They’re doctors and they’re gonna make sure you’re all okay. Is that alright?”

I nod because I don’t like to talk when it’s not just Steve. Also, because I am shaking and I’m afraid if my voice shakes Steve will know nothing is alright and be upset.

Bruce is very kind to me and he says he pulled a bullet out of me. Tony doesn’t talk at first, when he does, I don’t understand what he’s saying.

First Bruce feels me and listens to me and takes a little bit of my blood. Then he uses a machine to scan my head while he asks questions. I answer as well as I can, but I can’t remember a lot. It doesn’t hurt at all and I don’t remember doctors being like this. Doctors hurt.

After Bruce has put my blood in a special case he comes close again and speaks to me very gently. “Tony is going to have a look at your arm now, Bucky. He’s very curious about it.”

I nod. “It’s broken.”

Bruce blinks. “It’s broken?”

I nod. Talking to Bruce isn’t so bad. He is like Steve but instead of an ocean underneath his eyelids he has a campfire in a forest in France. “The thermometer is full of water, three wires are disconnected and it has two cracked outer plates because of,” my mouth is twisted. “Because of Steve, I think,”

I try to hit myself in the head, I am so frustrated, but Bruce stops me.

“Shh, it’s alright. It doesn’t matter why, Tony will help. Can you show him what’s wrong?”

I nod.

Bruce calls Tony over and Tony sits down where Bruce was just a minute ago. But he’s not like Bruce, he looks worried. He glances at me but he doesn’t talk, just carefully lifts my arm.

I reach up and open an access panel for him and he blinks.

“Holy shit,” he says.

I try to stay still.

He seems to have forgotten any worries and is now carefully inspecting everything in my arm, delightedly opening each new access panel.

Tony works with my arm for a very long time and removes three vials of a liquid I don’t recognize from within its workings. He also scans the broken outer plates and promises me new ones in hot rod red.

When he’s done Steve tells me I did a great job and says I should have some food. I know Steve just wants me to go to the kitchen, so that’s what I do.

But even though I can’t remember much, I’m not an idiot, so I listen to what they’re saying and when I’m sure they’re not looking, I peek around the cabinets so I can watch them too.

“Well?” Steve says.

Bruce responds. “His body is incredible. Just like yours—“

Tony snorts.

When I glance around Bruce is rubbing his forehead and Tony is wiggling his eyebrows.

Bruce continues. “He is physically somewhere between 27 and 30, he’s healthy other than still being a little on the small side. He needs to eat more.”

“I know, I try, but—“

“Well that’s just it, I scanned his brain and I noticed that, well, to put it bluntly, a lot has been screwed around with in there. They’ve purposely severed most of the connections that correlate strongest with memory, destroying certain areas altogether and just disconnecting others. One section they’ve destroyed focuses on basic needs, he physically forgets to be hungry, which, I suppose, if you’re trying to make a human robot would be pretty useful.”

I look again. Steve’s shoulders are shaking.

“If he were any other person, I’d be giving you my sincerest apologies right now, because this kind of damage is permanent.”

“But!” Tony interrupts Bruce before Steve can.

Bruce continues, “But he’s not any other person. Most of the damaged tissue is already showing signs of regeneration, and Tony made a magnificent discovery while making repairs on his arm.”

Tony lifts the three vials he pulled from my arm.

Steve seems preemptively defensive when he talks to Tony. “What is that?”

“According to my analysis program, which is always right by the way, it’s a sort of well, brainwashing fluid. This serum has been formulated specifically to attack new memory connections and make remembering things harder, in addition to suppressing emotions and making him more compliant. It focuses on the brain only, which means when the rest of his body heals at an excelled rate, his brain’s healing is actually slower than the average trauma patient. His arm is designed to send another dose through his blood system every six days.”

“So, you’re saying without that, he’ll get better?”

Bruce starts speaking but Tony talks over him. “Don’t get excited, buns of freedom.”

Bruce gives Tony a look and starts again. “We’re saying there is a small possibility he _can_ get better. With these obstacles removed, any efforts he was making that seemed useless before will now keep him moving in leaps and bounds. But only if he is genuinely trying to heal, he has a lot to overcome.”

“How can I help?” Steve’s shoulders aren’t shaking anymore. He actually sounds kind of happy.

“There isn’t very much. A lot of it will just be time. But I did notice something in the scan that could help, the connection between touch and memory has more scar tissue and is more functional than the other senses, suggesting it’s stronger and will be more responsive than anything else. If you’re looking to jog his memory, or more likely, help him keep things in his head, let him touch more. Let him touch what he needs to remember and it may sound weird, but try to initiate lots of physical contact too. Touching another human being often has a strong effect and though I’m not happy to say it, it is very likely he’s been deprived of the usual person to person contact we experience every day.”

“I understand. I'll do everything I can. Thank you so much, the both of you.”

They leave and I quickly sit at the table with a half-eaten sandwich, so I don’t look suspicious. I think Steve might know I was listening the whole time though. He isn’t that stupid.

When Steve comes in I glance up at him and he stares down at me with his eyes so heavy. I look down at my sandwich because I can’t take it but then suddenly he is hugging me close, he’s lifted me half out of my chair and his arms are tight but they don’t hurt and my face is squished against his chest and shoulder and I’m not sure what to do, I know how to hug, I think anyway, I think I remember but I am not so sure I've ever actually done it before.

I wrap my arms around him. That seems right. That feels right. It all feels…really right and nice and good. I wish I could hug Steve all the time.

But now he’s pulling away. And he’s apologizing.

“I’m sorry, Buck, it’s gonna get better, I promise. You’re doing so great.” His voice cracks on the word great.

I know it feels so nice when he tells me I’m doing the right thing. “You’re doing so great, too, Steve.” I say, though my words don’t sound nice like his, they sound shaky and sometimes he says he can’t understand them.

But he understands this and he laughs. Not like I remember him laughing all week. This time it is raw and it is wonderful and his ocean eyes don’t hurt like being under all the ocean anymore. They look different and they feel different.

They make me feel like I am underneath all the sky, with nothing but freedom before me.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Wonderful_   
_Freedom_   
_Red_   
_Hug_   
_Discovery_   
_Magnificent_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *BONUS* Tony trying to convince Bruce not to go in to Steve's apartment.
> 
> "Let's go to Hawaii, huh? You wanna go to Hawaii." Tony locks the car doors.  
> Bruce gives him a look. "We already agreed to this, Tony."  
> "Not good enough? How about I buy Hawaii, you think I can buy Hawaii? I probably can. I'll buy you Hawaii."  
> "We did not drive down here just to sit in the car in front of Steve's apartment."  
> "You know, I'm not sure buying Hawaii is such a good business investment, I feel like Florida's a bigger money maker."  
> "Tony."  
> "But Florida's no Hawaii, too many clubs. Though I do enjoy the club scene I wouldn't want to do anything you don't want to do, dear,"  
> "Tony."  
> "Course Hawaii has kind of an excess of fat guys in leis, definitely seems like a more relaxing place though, don't you think?"  
> "Tony!"  
> "Okay, yeesh, late for our playdate with the world's oldest assassin." Tony continues to hesitate, but eventually enters the apartment building after threat of a lecture from Bruce.


	4. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some friends come over for turkey day.

Steve is right. It’s getting better. I remember what month it is and two days later, I say I’m hungry and Steve hugs me again.

Steve hugs me all the time now and I am so happy. Today we’re watching movies. They’re fantastic, I can’t always watch so much, sometimes they make me feel a little sick but when that happens, Steve lets me look away and put my face in his shoulder instead and that makes me feel better.

Today, the movie is a little scary, I do feel a little sick, but it’s not so bad, so I ask Steve if I can bring the bag of popcorn from the kitchen.

In the kitchen, I open it, and I smell it. Gosh it smells good. Oh, Stevie better like this, it smells fantastic. We’ll take it to the movies with us tonight, that’ll cheer him up. I take the popcorn and head—what the hell? This isn’t my apartment. I must not be paying attention, Steve’s redecorating again. How on earth can we afford this?

“Steve! What on god’s green earth did you do to this kitchen? I don’t recognize a thing!” I call towards the living room with a chuckle. Steve comes running in and…something looks off about him.

“Have you been cutting your own hair again?” I smile and search for a glass for some water. “I told you, let me do it, ma taught me, I’ll keep you from looking like some street kid eyein’ the boys in hopes of pennies from heaven.” I wiggle my eyebrows and laugh but Steve doesn’t seem to think it’s funny.

Usually that at least makes him giggle and it always makes him roll his eyes.

“You okay, Stevie? You’re lookin’ a little down.” I step forward and feel his forehead.

The bag of popcorn falls from my hand and spills everywhere. I’m startled, but I can’t remember if I dropped the bag because I’m startled or if I’m startled because I dropped the bag.

Steve is very close, my hand is on his face and I don’t know why. He looks so very sad. I can’t remember why. I can’t even remember why we’re in the kitchen.

“B-Bucky?” he watches me.

“Why are we in here?” I run my hand through my hair and glance up at him again but he looks so sad I just don’t want to see him anymore.

“You don’t remember? Not at all?”

I shake my head.

There is a very long pause. Steve is taking a big breath and he still looks very, very sad.

“That’s fine.” He says finally. “Do you wanna keep watching the movie now? I'll clean up the popcorn.”

I nod and I go to the living room because I’m not sure he wants me in the kitchen.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Popcorn_   
_Dinosaur_   
_Pink_   
_Microwave_   
_Bracelet_

I've been with Steve for almost three weeks now. Sometimes, he laughs sixteen times in one day. I keep count, because, well it’s wonderful.

Today, something special is going on, Steve says it’s Thanksgiving. He says some people are gonna come over (if that’s okay) and we’re gonna have a big dinner.

The first person who comes is Sam. He brings chicken, mashed potatoes, baked potatoes and some gravy he says is extra special because his grandma taught him how to make it before she got Alzheimer’s.

Sam is very nice to me and he talks to me for a while. He asks how I’m doing and he asks about Steve and I say sorry once but he tells me it’s okay. Sam gives me a hug too. Sam feels as if he was made to give hugs.

Next is Bruce, the doctor. He has six different pans full of baked, fried, and steamed vegetables and says each one is full of vitamins and minerals essential to a balanced diet.

Sam is really happy Bruce brought veggies and Bruce seems really shy until Sam confesses he’s been dying to meet him and jumped at the opportunity to enjoy a Thanksgiving with him and Steve.

They talk for a while and Steve is busy in the kitchen making apple cake. I ask if I can help but Steve says I don’t need to, so I sit alone in the living room.

I hear Sam and Bruce talking softly by the table, Sam is asking about Tony but Bruce is shaking his head. He lowers his voice too and I know that Tony is not here because I am here.

Steve joins them as he brushes flour off his hands and on to his apron. “Can we expect anyone else?”

Bruce and Sam both shake their heads.

“We can’t even get a hold of anyone else.” Bruce says. He seems a little sad but Sam and Steve just shrug.

“Well there’s still a few things cooking and I honestly haven’t worked out the turkey yet, so, make yourselves at home.” Steve runs his fingers through his hair and sits down to join their conversation after glancing warily at me.

They turn the TV on, they talk about football, and they talk about black Friday and family. They’re all looking away, so I’m the only one who notices when the front door silently opens.

They’re all watching the TV and listening to each other so I’m the only one who sees the red headed woman step in and shrug off her coat, still not making a sound.

Perched in my corner I’m right next to the front door. She turns and she smiles at me.

“Evening, soldier.” She says with a wide smile. I stare at her. She has a tubberware container tucked under one arm. I recognize the smell.

She leans closer so I can hear her stage whisper. “I brought Kotlety, figured they’d like it more than Kholodets.”

I smile back at her. I don’t quite remember her. But she remembers me.

There’s a gasp from the table where everyone else is sitting. Steve jumps up. “Natasha!”

She smiles and accepts a hug from each of them.

“I thought you were deep under cover in Reykjavik.” Bruce says.

Natasha just shrugs. “I got your text message, figured I could take a day off.”

“Have you heard from anyone else?” Steve says hopefully.

Natasha shakes her head. “I sent Clint a message on our private line but I didn’t get a response. Do I still have time to cook something?”

“Of course, the kitchen’s this way.”

I follow them to the kitchen. Steve shows Natasha where everything is and he pauses when he sees me.

“Come on, Buck, let’s let her cook.” He says but Natasha responds before I can.

“He can stay.”

Steve looks uncomfortable. He leans in and murmurs something in Natasha’s ear.

Natasha just smiles at him. “I won’t. Clint was brainwashed once, I didn’t do any permanent damage to him.”

Steve hesitates then finally leaves, rejoining his conversation.

Natasha turns to me as she steals one of Steve’s many extra aprons. “You ever cooked before?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You ever had Kotlety?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t look up at me. She looks down at the sauce she’s stirring. But I can tell she’s paying a lot of attention. “Steve said you didn’t remember anything.”

“I don’t tell Steve about Russia.”

She looks at me.

“It makes his eyes very sad. He wants me to remember a place called Brooklyn, he doesn’t like it when I talk about Russia.”

She doesn’t say anything. She keeps stirring the sauce.

I bite my lip. I stand and put on another one of Steve’s extra aprons.

Natasha hands me a knife and a bundle of herbs. “Don’t slice off any fingers, okay?”

I frown at her and start to show her how the knife doesn’t do any damage to my left hand but then I realize she’s grinning. I laugh. It was a joke.

Steve comes in, looking worried. “Everything okay?”

Natasha nods. “At ease, Steve.”

“What was that noise?” he frowns.

“We were laughing. I made a joke.”

Steve only frowns deeper. “You both laughed?”

Natasha nods. She looks very intensely at Steve. Her eyes are saying relax and go away.

Steve looks hurt, he looks upset but he pretends he’s fine and he leaves.

“He always like that?” Natasha says as she shovels the herbs in to the sauce.

I nod.

“You don’t make any jokes?”

“He tried, once, when I first got here. I don’t remember what happened. Sometimes I can’t remember things, and—and it’s awful, I can’t remember anything but whatever I do, it makes him so sad.” I push my hand through my hair.

I want to hit myself, it’s so frustrating.

“So he doesn’t make jokes anymore?”

I nod.

Natasha turns on the stove and starts frying the meatballs.

I watch her. It’s quiet for a long while. I glance at the table, Steve looks sad, Sam is trying to console him.

“Is this what Thanksgiving is always like?” I ask Natasha.

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. This is the closest I've ever gotten to it.”

She turns off the stove and puts a lid on the pan, to keep things warm.

Her phone rings and I jump.

She answers and I can hear that someone is shouting on the other end.

She winces and holds the phone slightly farther from her ear. The speaker crackles for a while then finally goes silent. Natasha speaks calmly, though she’s glaring.

“You done? Good. Now what do you need? Gimme a minute.” She holds the phone away from her face again.

“Hey, Steve, what’s your address?”

Steve leans in to respond, looking vaguely alarmed.

There is a loud thunderclap and I jump again.

Steve looks more alarmed.

The front door bursts open and a massive man with long blonde hair emerges, carrying two smaller men, one in each arm.

I recognize one of the smaller men as Tony Stark, the other doctor, he looks distraught.

The other smaller man I do not recognize, or maybe I do not remember. He is holding a pair of slightly bloody antlers and he looks very excited.

Steve looks incredibly alarmed.

“My apologies, Captain,” the blonde man booms as he gently sets down the other two. “Your message was delayed and then I was further detoured by a slight confusion between Barton and Stark.”

“A slight confusion?? He _stole_ my Thanksgiving turkey!!” Tony says angrily.

“You can’t skip out on Thanksgiving dinner when you’re bringing the turkey!” Says the other man, who I guess is Barton.

“I wasn’t skipping out!! I was having Thanksgiving dinner at _my_ house with _my_ turkey!!”

“Yeah, asshole, skipping out! I came from Alaska and you can’t come from upper Manhattan?! We saved the world together!”

There is a silence that weighs heavily on everyone and lasts a moment too long.

Sam breaks it. “So…no turkey?”

“Oh yeah, Stark’s robot tried to kill me and long story short I kind of dropped it from Stark tower. But!” Barton pulls forward a massive burlap sack. “Thor helped us hunt down and bring a traditional roasted bilgesnipe!!”

“Excuse me?” Bruce says.

But Barton is too busy pushing his way to the table. “It’s in this cool sack man like I know it looks gross but it’s lined with linen that’s soaked in marinade so it stays juicy and delicious even during interplanetary travel!”

“So, it is for human consumption, right?” Bruce directs his question to Thor this time.

Thor nods and smiles. “Jane and Darcy have both enjoyed its flesh, though, Jane did perhaps not like the taste, Darcy insisted I bring it during my next stay in Midguard.”

“Good enough for me.” Steve offers a real smile and helps Barton get the chunk of meat unwrapped and on the table.

It does smell good. I am still adjusting to smelling things. I don’t remember, but I believe the doctors—the other doctors, not the kind ones Bruce and Tony—hurt me so I could not smell. Now I can and it’s very nice. It’s very interesting.

The bilgesnipe smells like rosemary and lamb and pork.

The others start bringing their dishes to set out and there’s a shuffling as enough chairs are pulled up to the table. Tony grumbles the whole time and at first he insists he’s leaving but then he begrudgingly says he’ll have to eat our dinner because Barton ruined his.

Everything is served out and for a moment, everyone’s mouth is full and the only noises are the clinking of silverware, the chewing of food and the occasional, could you pass me the gravy?

There’s almost no noise in fact until Barton looks up and gives Sam a confused look. “Wait. Who the hell are you?”

Steve snorts and quickly swallows his food. “Right, I’m sorry,” he wipes his mouth. “Everyone, this is Sam Wilson and this is Bucky Barnes. They’re both good friends of mine.” Steve leans close to me. “Bucky, that’s Clint Barton, that’s Natasha Romanov, and uh, Prince Thor. You remember Tony right, the doctor who was here?”

I nod.

Clint is staring at me and he gasps and he starts to say something but then he is audibly kicked under the table and Natasha leans over to murmur something to him.

“I already know who all you guys are.” Sam grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “Gotta say though, the posters I have at home make ya’ll look a lot cooler.”

Thor laughs. “We’re on posters now?”

“You _deserve_ to be, you guys seem to make saving the world a habit.” Sam grins.

“I’m never on a poster. It’s always the other guy.” Bruce says, but he says it very quietly and I’m the only one who hears him.

Clint says something about posing for posters to pay for college, then says ‘Oh, not _that_ kind of poster.’

Steve and Bruce roll their eyes but then Natasha flicks her hair and says she remembers Clint having trouble selling those posters and everyone laughs.

They are all easy going after that. They talk and laugh and I listen because it’s very nice. Steve is glowing a little.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Thunder_   
_Easy_   
_Great_   
_Thankful_   
_Family_   
_Natasha_


	5. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple people stay the night after Thanksgiving dinner

Almost everyone stays the night. Bruce and Tony go back to Stark Tower but everyone else happily accepts a spot on the floor and an extra blanket. Steve tells me I can still sleep in his bed like usual and says I can leave as soon as I want to.

I curl my fists. I know Steve wants me to go sleep safe and sound in his bed. I don’t want to upset Steve.

“I want to watch a movie.” I blurt out. I squeeze my eyes shut. For a moment I am very sure Steve will hit me.

I don’t remember why.

“Uh, sure.” Steve says. “As long as nobody minds. What do you wanna watch?”

I open my eyes but now Steve is watching me so closely. I do not want to upset him I do not want to upset him.

“I…want to look.”

He looks very worried. Maybe a little upset.

I am so frustrated.

He hands me the remote control and I take the opportunity to sit on the couch next to Natasha. I ask her very quietly what she wants to watch.

She gives me a wide smile. “I don’t know. Have you and Steve watched anything good?”

I nod and brush my hair out of my face.

“Well, what do you want to watch?”

I smile and then I glance at Steve. Steve looks like he is about to cry.

I curl my fists. I want to hit my head but everyone is watching. I curl my toes and twist my lips in to a line. I fucked up. I messed it up. Steve is so sad anyway. I tried to be nice.

I pull on my hair and I apologize to Steve but I’m too upset to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Steve looks at Natasha. “What’s he saying?”

“’I’m sorry.’” She gently pulls my fingers from my hair.

“Why? What did he say before??” Steve comes close and tries to touch me but I scoot away.

Natasha shrugs. She’s brushing my hair out of my face. “We were just talking about movies.”

I muster the courage to look directly at Steve. “Please stop being sad, I’m sorry.”

But Steve looks more upset. “What’s he saying now?”

Sam steps in. He pulls Steve away very gently, holding his shoulders. “Steve. How about you and me grab some movie time snacks? How’s that sound?”

Natasha scoots closer to me. She holds my hands. “Steve’s not upset at you, I promise. Your Russian just reminds him—“

“Russian?”

She gives me an understanding smile. “We’re speaking Russian, Bucky.”

I want to cry. “Steve…Steve _hates_ Russia.” I murmur and my voice cracks.

“Same.” Clint says, before Nat hushes him and Thor quietly asks Clint to tell him more about Russia.

Natasha rubs the backs of my hands with her thumbs. “Steve doesn’t hate Russia. Steve hates the people who hurt you. When you talk about Russia, it reminds Steve that you were hurt.”

“I won’t talk about Russia anymore.”

“No.” her voice is firm and sharp and I jump just a little. “When Steve denies Russia, he is denying a part of you. If he loves you now, he will still love you in Russian. You cannot destroy yourself in the hopes of rebuilding him, James. Do you understand me?”

I nod.

“That means everything. You can’t stop being upset because it will upset him. You cannot hide yourself. Steve deserves all of you. And if he can’t handle you, we will take you.  
No more tiptoeing. Do you understand?”

I nod.

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

She gives me a look.

“Yes, I understand, I promise, but I can only do it when he doesn’t look at—“

“That’s not what I said, James.”

I swallow. I don’t know if I can do this. But then she holds my hand a little tighter. Maybe I can.

Steve and Sam haven’t come back yet though. I look towards the door but Natasha is speaking again.

“What movie will we watch?”

I blink back at her.

“You can pick any movie.”

I think for a moment. Steve’s not back yet. Maybe he won’t be back for a while. “Well, there is one, Steve says I can’t watch it because it might be scary. It’s called Jurassic Park.”

Clint’s head snaps up. “Did I just hear Jurassic Park? Can you guys switch back to English now, or at least ASL??”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but neither does Thor so maybe I’m not supposed to. Natasha laughs softly though.

“I take it Jurassic Park is a movie we can agree on then?” She says.

Clint and I nod exuberantly and Natasha takes the remote so she can find it. While she does that, Clint leans forward and starts telling me other cool movies I should watch.

Clint’s eyes look like sad starlight.

When the movie starts, Natasha says it’s okay if I hold her hand if it’s a little too scary.

I hold her hand a little bit, but mostly, it’s really cool.

Sam and Steve come back halfway through. When Sam sees the screen his eyes get alarmed and Steve gives Nat and Clint a very angry looking face.

But both Sam and Steve seem to relax when they look at me.

I whisper to Natasha and ask her to pause it and I try to talk but I almost throw up instead so I take a second and take a deep breath ‘cause Sam said that’s a good way to not throw up.

When I try again it almost works out but Nat touches my hand to say I’m still speaking Russian so I have to try again a third time and I have to think very hard.

“St-Steve…would you like to sit here?” I point to a spot on the couch, right next to me. There’s not lots of space, but if Steve sits there, I can hold his hand _and_ Natasha’s when it’s a little scary.

Steve agrees with soft eyes and when we start the movie again, I must have forgotten the word for how I feel, it’s like happy but times ten.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Playground_   
_Beautiful_   
_друзья_   
_Desperate_   
_Penguin_   
_Tip-toes_   
_Love_

I fall asleep sometime before the movie ends. When I wake up, Steve’s arms are around me tight, and I’m mostly in his lap. He’s asleep sitting up. I've only seen him sleep lying down twice. Usually he just sits in the corner and watches me till I fall asleep and when I wake up, he’s still sitting there.

I used to sleep sitting up too, but now that’s Steve’s around, I’m not afraid. I wonder if having me around makes Steve afraid.

Steve’s head is lolling to one side. I reach up to touch his face with my right hand. I’m still not used to the feel of his skin. It’s like it’s the warmest thing I've ever felt.

Which is silly, I remember being on fire once, so I know that’s not true.

But still, when I touch him, it’s like he’s on fire on the inside.

His eyelids flutter open, but only half way.

My hand is on his cheek, my thumb is resting on his lip. I don’t remember if this is normal or not.

He looks at me, his eyes still half lidded, he leans his face towards mine, I can feel his breath on my lips.

But then he pulls away, he shakes his head and drags his palm over his eyes. “Sorry, sorry,”

“It’s okay.” I say, because I want to comfort him, though I don’t think I understand why he’s apologizing.

He stretches his arms above his head and asks if I want breakfast. I nod, so together we step over our friends sleeping in the floor and get to the kitchen.

I sit at the table while he cooks, which is how it always is. He keeps his back to me, and we don’t say anything, but his shoulders tell me he is not happy.

In the middle of cooking something, he turns the stove off and turns around. He starts to speak, then bites his lip and starts again.

“Bucky, I-I’m sorry.”

I blink and look at him.

“I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry for the way I've been treating you, I’m sorry if anything I've said has…given you the wrong impression. And I’m sorry I've been keeping you in the house, I promise, we’ll try going somewhere, soon.  
I think, I keep waiting for you to be someone you’re not, you have these moments where you’re just like the old Bucky I knew, I keep thinking you’ll just go back to that, but then you can’t remember.  
It’s not fair for me to expect you be someone you aren’t. This is you now.”

He rubs at one of his eyes, where they’re damp.

I take a deep breath. I know what I need to do, I know we’ve been like this before. I just have to get it right. I know I can, I think about Natasha, I need to be smart like her with a pretty smile.

“Jeez,” I say, I don’t remember that word but I know it’s right, “About time you said something, like you said, everything has been _your_ fault.” I don’t know what that was. My voice even sounded different.

Steve looks up then stares at me.

I try to smile.

He laughs. “Did you just make a joke?”

I nod excitedly, “I—I think I did?”

He laughs again then comes closer and hugs me.

I try to hug him back with all my might. “It’s okay, Steve.” I say very quietly, ‘cause I want things to be a little different but I don’t want him to be sorry.

When he pulls away he doesn’t go back to cooking, he sits next me. He’s holding my hand. “Did you like the movie, last night?”

I nod. “I fell asleep at the end.”

He smiles. “That’s okay, you need it. How did you like the others? Everyone was nice to you, right?”

I nod again. “They’re different than you and Sam.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, they’re not as soft.”

He tilts his head, watching me.

Then the front door opens and Sam steps in to the kitchen with groceries.

Sam pauses. “Am I interrupting?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Good, because I went to a lot of effort to get us breakfast on black Friday and ya’ll better be thankful.”

Steve laughs and Sam starts pulling out food, turns the stove back on and mixes pancakes.

Steve helps too, washing dishes and frying bacon.

I stand and grab an extra apron.

They both pause to look at me.

“I’m gonna help.” I say, hoping that they’ll let me if I don’t pose it as a question. It works.

Steve tries to give me only easy stuff but Sam hops right in, asking me to do whatever he needs.

Sam and Steve joke a lot and it’s fun.

The others come in pretty quick when they smell breakfast and we eat together, just like before.

Everyone is cheerful, though after breakfast, Thor says he has more friends awaiting him and says warm goodbyes to everyone.

He gives me a hug without even asking and I’m nervous and at first I’m gonna stab him but then I remember I have no knife, I brace my left hand for a punch but then Thor’s letting go of me and moving towards Clint.

Steve gently holds me from behind, he reaches out and very carefully pulls my left arm down. “You okay?”

I nod slowly but hold Steve’s hand so he doesn’t go too far.

When Thor leaves, there’s a thunderclap. I jump but I’m not the only one who does.

Everyone starts cleaning up what’s left from breakfast, I want to help, though with Sam and Steve’s shoulders in the kitchen there’s not much extra space, and the little space there is, Natasha has fit in to so she can wash the dishes.

Clint tries to help too but after he breaks several plates, Natasha firmly suggests he and I go in to the living room to fold up the extra blankets.

I follow him in to the living room, he glances at me as he picks up a blanket. “You’re not gonna try to kill me, right? I saw you aiming for Thor.”

I shake my head but I don’t come any closer, I don’t want him to be scared. “I won’t. I wasn’t gonna kill Thor. I just…” I push my hand through my hair. “I have trouble remembering sometimes.”

Clint shrugs. “Just wanted to be prepared. No hard feelings. Tasha’s tried to kill me once or twice.”

I pick up another blanket and watch him. “Is it…normal? Everyone here has tried to kill each other, everyone here has almost died.”

He laughs. “Yeah, for us it is. But not for other people. If you ever hang out with other people, you need to try not to kill them.”

I swallow and glance down at my hands. Will everyone I meet be afraid of me?

“But, then again, it’s been a pretty long while since I hung out with somebody who wasn’t prepared for me to try to kill them, so, maybe it’s not such a big deal.”

I glance up at him. “Is that a joke?”

He smiles and drops the folded blanket on the floor, then sits on it. “No. I know a little of what you’re feeling. I had my head cracked open too, I hurt people I didn’t mean to hurt.”

I put my blanket down and sit on it just like he has. “Can I ask a question?”

“I can try to answer.”

“It does get better…right?” I watch him. My throat feels tight.

“It does. But it gets worse first.”

I nod and rub my eyes. They’re wet. I didn’t plan on that.

“When I got bad, Tasha started teaching me Russian. It didn’t work out great, so instead I started teaching her sign language.  
When Tasha got bad, I started teaching her how to use a bow. It didn’t work out either, so she started teaching me ballet.  
We did whatever we could and we made it, maybe with a few more broken bones but we made it.  
Sometimes even now though, it just gets bad, it gets really bad and I discovered, the only way to keep from sinking is to tell myself what I’d usually tell Natasha.”

“What’s that?”

“Whatever it needs to be. If she’s guilty I tell her it’s not her fault, if she’s weak I tell her she’s strong.  Anything I can do to make her feel better is what I do. So now, anything I can do to make myself feel better, I do that too.”

I nod.

He starts to stand back up.

“Wait,” I say softly. “I can ask one more question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s ballet? And w-what is sign language?”

“Oh right, brainwashing. Ballet is dancing, y’know, with the arms like this?” he puts his fingertips together above his head.

I don’t remember it but I nod anyway.

“And sign language is when people use their hands to talk, it looks like this.” He makes several gestures.

I blink. “What did you say?”

“I said my name is Clint. I can show you how, if you want.”

I nod.

He starts explaining the gestures to me, he says I have to make my own name sign, but he shows me the one he has for Steve and Natasha.

I ask about Sam but he says he doesn’t know Sam, so we’ll have to make one for him too.

“It could be wings.” Clint says. “Nat said he can actually fly.”

“No,”

“He can’t fly?”

“No, it shouldn’t be wings.” I try not to fidget. “It should be kind, it should be a heart.”

Clint laughs.

My cheeks feel warm. “He has been so kind, so many times. I've only seen him fly once. And I tried to kill him.”

Clint shrugs. “Don’t think he has any hard feelings about it. How ‘bout this?” he moves his hands then explains the sign.

I nod and try to make the same motion.

Clint smiles. “Good job. You’re already ahead of everyone else. Here’s how you would say hello to Sam. Which I’m sure is useful, he comes here a lot for Cap’s booty calls, right?”

There’s a soft throat clearing and me and Clint look up. The other three are standing by the doorway watching us.

Clint offers a lopsided grin. “Hey guys.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and strides over to help Clint to his feet. “We’re headed out, guys. Thanks for the Thanksgiving.”

She offers me a hand and I take it so she can pull me up from the floor. She opens her arms for me, but she doesn’t hug me. She waits till I hug her.

I hug her tight. “Please come back.”

“We will, soldier.” She runs her fingers through my hair then hugs Sam and Steve, giving each a kiss on the cheek.

Steve thanks her for coming a few times and shakes Clint’s hand.

They both leave and it’s just me and Sam and Steve, as usual.

I smile at Steve but then I’m suddenly on the floor and Steve is rushing over.

“You okay??”

I nod, trying to stand again, but Steve gently keeps me down.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired.” I say.

“Rightfully so, that’s more social interaction than you’ve had in a long time, James.” Sam says as he steps forward.

“Come on, Buck.” Steve lifts me up and takes me to the bedroom. I grab the fabric of his shirt.

He very gently puts me down but I pull him with me. “Steve, you never lie down, are you afraid? Are you afraid of me?” my words sound like they’re connected to each other. My eyes are half shut.

“No, Bucky.”

I open my eyes all the way and look up at him seriously.

He swallows. “A little. Mostly, I’m afraid for you.”

“Steve, Steve, I don’t remember, all the way, but I think…” I sigh. “Steve, I love you.”

I close my eyes. I feel better. I don’t know if that’s what I should’ve said, but I said it, now I can sleep.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Dancing_   
_Cute_   
_Pancakes_   
_Friends_   
_Hammer_   
_Brainwash_   
_Jeez_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *BONUS* Steve and Sam's trip to get snacks  
> "Do you think Nat was lying??" Steve kicks his way through the snow. He doesn't even know where they're going, he just knows Sam thought he needed a breath of fresh air. "Do you think I'm controlling? Have I been treating him wrong??"  
> "Steve, you're too close to this. I need you to take a breath."  
> "So I am treating him wrong."   
> Sam gently grabs Steve's elbow.   
> Steve stops with a huff.  
> "You two are amazing." Sam says slowly, genuine admiration in his eyes. "Alright? You two have survived so much, you two have lost so much, you've both grown a desperate need to get something back. And you two are so damn selfless, that something isn't even your own happiness. It's someone else's. But with that plea for happiness, you've both latched on, you've gotten so attentive, so alert to each other's every move, you've forgotten happiness is an emotion and not a mission. I want you to take a breath, Steve, because he's not speaking Russian as some secret and definite signal, it's not bad and it's not good. But you treat it like an invariable sign and he sees your face and treats that like an invariable sign and you both bend over backwards to try to change the outcome. If you two keep it up, you're gonna kill each other or you're gonna kill yourselves. But you just need to take a breath, Steve. You need to step back you need to ask yourself if this looks right.  
> And if it doesn't, don't pull out your shield, don't suit up, just try to remember what it was like before you were a hero, before you were a soldier. Just try to remember happiness is a sometimes and not a permanent objective.  
> The least you can do is enjoy what you have, whether James continues to improve or not, the least you can do is enjoy this crazy second chance you've gotten. Because we still don't know how long he'll last, we still don't even know what's happened to him. We just know that right now, you've got some time with him and if you ruin it by trying to make it perfect, you're gonna regret it."   
> After a long pause, Steve hugs Sam without saying anything.  
> Sam gives Steve a long moment to regain his voice and he shakes his head and pats Steve's back as he pulls away. "Some sick joke y'know. I see it everyday, soldiers save the world and they can't save themselves."  
> Steve shrugs, watching the snow as they continue walking along. "It's always been that way. Or at least, since the forties, I can say for sure."  
> "Don't you get all grandpa on me." Sam smirks.  
> "Oh, I'm sorry, so you'd lose a race to your grandpa?"  
> Sam makes a face and it distracts Steve with laughter long enough for Sam to take off running down the block.  
> "Hey! That's cheating!" Steve says as he runs after him.  
> But Sam just shouts back another grandpa joke as he runs around the corner.


	6. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets another visit from Bruce, Sam is a good friend.

When I wake up, Steve is asleep sitting up in the corner. A glance out the window says it’s pretty late at night. I’m starving so I head to the kitchen, but I do it silently, I don’t want to wake Steve.

Cooking would be loud, instead I eat an entire box of cereal dry, then I go back to sleep.

I don’t have any dreams.

When I wake up again, I’m starving again. But when I sit up I see Bruce is just putting away a stethoscope next to my bed.

I frown.

Bruce blinks. “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“In the living room, with Sam—hey take it easy,” he tries to keep me from standing up.

I look down at myself. I look normal. I think.

“Am I malfunctioning?”

Bruce frowns and says ahhhhh before he speaks. “Guess it depends on how you look at it.”

I stand up and brush past him.

He doesn’t stop me but he does seem surprised that my legs are working.

I go to the other room, I hear a gasp, suddenly Steve’s arms are around me.

“Bucky, thank god.” He murmurs in to my hair.

“What is happening?” I put my arms around Steve loosely but mostly I’m just hungry and confused.

Steve pulls away enough to look at me, but not very far. “Bucky, it’s Sunday, you’ve been asleep for eight days.”

I blink and look at myself. I still look normal. I think. “People don’t…usually do that?” I say hopefully but Steve shakes his head.

Steve sighs and looks down at me fondly. “I thought for sure I’d lost you.”

“Tough luck, Rogers.” I smirk at him. “You got any idea how many times I thought I’d lost you, you sickly little punk?”

Steve blinks at me. He’s so clean, I can smell it.

“But no, you always pull through, every fever, every cold. Jeez, Steve, at this point I’m not even sure the damn plague could kill you.” I grin and pull away from him. “Can we grab some rations now? I’m starvin’ and I’m sick of going to work hungry.”

I frown. Is this his new apartment? Who the hell is that guy? “Steve, you make friends while I was out?”

Steve stammers but doesn’t actually say anything.

I turn back to him. “Don’t tell me you found yourself another sugar-daddy?”

Steve is a little pink, though something about him seems different, his face is right, but his clothes are wrong. His hair is too short.

I step over to the stranger and extend my hand to shake. “Sorry about my friend, he’s a looker but he’s easily flustered. I’m James Barnes. You can call me Bucky.” I wink at him, stranger’s a bit of a looker himself.

He doesn’t seem thrilled to be meeting me though, he’s real slow about shaking my hand.  
I frown. I’m not hugging Steve anymore, I’m holding Sam’s hand. Awkwardly. I don’t remember what happened.

I let go of Sam’s hand. Everyone is staring at me.

I want to say something but then my stomach growls loudly. I’m so hungry.

“H-hey Buck, help yourself to some food, okay? You must be starving.” Steve says, though his voice is weak and his eyes are wet.

I don’t know what I do but I've done it again. I go to the kitchen because I know that’s where Steve wants me to be. I know Sam can make him feel better.

I eat whatever I can get my hands on and after a few minutes Bruce comes in.

“Hey, Bucky is it alright if I ask you just a few questions?”

I nod.

Bruce doesn’t ask me anything special, he just asks how I feel and how I felt the day after Thanksgiving.

I answer honestly, because I didn’t and I don’t feel any different.

Bruce says, “You’re doing great, Bucky. I’m gonna be coming back in a few days to check on you again.”

“You’re lying.” I snap at him, I didn’t mean to, but I feel like shouting and killing people and it’s hard to focus.

Bruce glances at me. “It might be more than a few days.”

“That’s not what you’re lying about!” I shout at him and stand up.

Bruce doesn’t look afraid, why isn’t he afraid of me?

I cross the room and put my left hand around his throat, I lift him in to the air, but he doesn’t look afraid he looks calm.

“Bucky!” Steve is behind me, but I don’t look back.

“James. Put the doctor down.” Sam says very slowly. As he steps in to view, I can see he has a gun pointed at me.

“Bucky, please,” Steve’s hands touch my waist, then wrap around me from behind. He puts his head on my shoulder.

I’m shaking and it takes a long time to make my body listen. But I drop the doctor, he lands with a loud thud.

Sam still waits a long moment before putting the gun away, then checks on Bruce.

Steve pulls me away from them, he pulls me back to the bedroom and we sit on the bed. Steve lets me readjust, but he won’t fully let go of me.

Oh, what have I done?

_Words I remembered today:_

_Liar_

It has been three days since the incident with Bruce. I am never alone, Sam and Steve take shifts being with me when the other needs to leave or sleep.

I try to be very kind, always, I hope Steve will punish me and it will be over. But instead, it’s just quiet. Steve tries to pretend it’s normal, but I know it’s not.

Today, it’s so hard to take. I’m watching movies with Steve. When I get up to get water, Sam follows me in to the kitchen and back, till I’m sitting next to Steve again.

When there’s an explosion on the screen, I jump and hold Steve’s hand while both of them watch me with wary eyes.

So I pause the movie. I kneel on the ground in front of Steve and put my hands behind my back, as if they were tied at the wrists.

“Hit me.” I say.

Steve looks alarmed. “What are you—“

“Hit me!” I tremble and my voice cracks. “I malfunctioned. Please punish me. Please. Please I want things to be normal.” I close my eyes and wait.

But all I feel is Steve’s hands gently touching my cheeks. “I’m not gonna hit you, Buck.”

I open my eyes. They’re wet, looking at Steve is blurry.

He slips off the couch and puts his arms around me. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing.”

I lean in to him. For the first time, I cry. I sob until I can’t breathe and I apologize over and over.

Steve just holds me.

After a long time, I close my eyes. When I open them again, I’m lying on the couch, but Steve’s not close anymore, I can hear him talking to Sam. I go back to closed eyes and just listen.

“I don’t care what you think, Steve, I’m not leaving you here with him.”

“He’s getting better. And you already missed Thanksgiving to be with us, you’re not missing Christmas too.”

“I'll miss Christmas if I need to—“

“No. Sam, go be with your family. I can handle Bucky.”

“He nearly killed Bruce.”

“But he didn’t. If things get bad I'll lock myself in the closet and call you first. Alright?”

It’s quiet for a long moment. Then Sam says, “He can’t run as fast as you. Things get bad, you get out of the house and you run as far as you can, you hear me?”

“Yes, Sam.”

“You promise you’ll do it?”

“I promise.”

Steve sighs and I can hear Sam muttering something but Steve insists he’ll be fine.

I open my eyes again and sit up. They’re hugging each other tight. Both of them look at me as they pull away.

Steve comes close. “Hey, Bucky. Sam’s about to leave now. He’s gonna go see his family and we won’t see him for a while. You wanna say goodbye?”

I nod and go to Sam and hug him tight. “I’m sorry I scared you. Please come back.”

Sam softens. “I'll be back. I promise. You gotta do something for me though.”

I pull away and look up at him.

“You feel bad, you tell Steve. You need to hit things, you hit things, but don’t hit Steve. Do you understand?”

I nod and rub my eyes.

He puts his hand on my shoulder then says a few more things to Steve before he finally leaves.

I fidget and look at Steve.

Steve just smiles at me, lovingly.

I hug Steve.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Promise_   
_Family_   
_Help_   
_Health_   
_Compassion_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this fic everyone forgets but Sam actually has family, unlike the Avengers he's neither alone nor an alien, though his family life is sometimes difficult, which is 50% of the reason he so easily agreed to ditch Thanksgiving in D.C. and enjoy it with the Avengers.   
> Also hey you guys if you're still reading this well thanks for reading I love ya'll.


	7. Grocery Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky go to the store!

Two days pass. Things are easier without Sam, Steve doesn’t seem so worried and I don’t feel worried either.

I make Steve sleep in the bed. He never does, he always sleeps sitting up so I tell him he has to lie down in the bed with me and he laughs a little but he listens.

The bed is so much nicer with him in it. It’s just a little small, but that means we have to hold each other close to fit and I’m alright with that.

On the third day since Sam left Steve sits down across from me at breakfast and says, “Bucky, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to try something,”

I look at him.

“We need some stuff, do you maybe wanna go to the grocery store with me? It’s just a short walk down the street, we’ll have to bundle up, it’s been snowing, but it’s actually really nice out.”

I nod. “I don’t remember what a grocery store is.”

Steve smiles. “You’ll see.”

After breakfast, Steve starts pulling out coats and scarves and hats and gloves and socks. He puts a lot on me, he seems really worried that I won’t be warm enough.

I tell him that I have been exposed to below zero temperatures before and survived and that he doesn’t need to take so many precautions.

He just gets sad eyes and hugs me close.

When I have on five layers and a big scarf and thick boots, we go outside. I haven’t been outside Steve’s apartment since before I started living with him. The fresh air is nice, but cold. I blink a lot.

“Wow,”

Steve grins excitedly and holds my hand as he leads me down the sidewalk.

There’s snow in big piles on either side but the sidewalk has been cleared. I hold Steve’s hand tight and look around at everything. It’s all pretty and white.

My boot slides on an ice patch and I fall over with a squeak.

Steve turns around looking worried but I can’t help but laugh. I don’t know why I’m laughing, I just know it’s funny.

Steve laughs too and tries to help me up but we’re still on the ice and all it takes is clever use of my left arm to get him to fall too.

That’s even funnier.

Now we’re both laughing really hard and my chest feels warm and wonderful.

Steve finally manages to get us both up and he calls me a jerk with this big smile on his face and I grin at him and hold his arm tight so I don’t fall again.

The grocery store is amazing. I've never seen so much of anything before.

Except maybe dead bodies. I remember a lot of dead bodies.

But at the grocery store there’s tons and tons of food and candy and fruits that I don’t even remember piled up high.

Steve grins at me as I stare wide-eyed.

“It’s like you’ve died and gone to heaven, isn’t it?” he says as he grabs a basket. “I never thought I’d live to see so much food.”

I nod and follow him through the aisles. He gets what we usually eat and asks me if there’s anything I want.

I blink at him. “Something for me?”

He smiles. “Everything we have is for both of us but I don’t know, do you want something specific?”

I look around. There’s too much to look at, it’s like there’s a million options. I shake my head.

He interlaces his fingers with mine. “Don’t worry, we’ll come back here. You’ll have time to figure out what you like.”

On the way home we both carry bags of groceries. I try to convince Steve to let me carry all of them, with my metal arm. I’m worried he’s not strong enough to carry them. But I don’t know why. I’m worried if he carries too many he won’t be able to breathe.

But I don’t know why.

Inside we take off all our layers and Steve calls Sam while we’re putting groceries away to tell Sam how well I did at the grocery store.

He says I did really well with all the people, but when I think about it, I didn’t even notice the other people. Everything seems easier when I hold Steve’s hand.

That night we make dinner together and we spill sauce and chop vegetables in to cute shapes and everything just seems so funny and so wonderful and Steve says he likes cooking with me.

He says we should make cookies sometime and I tell him that I don’t remember what cookies are but that I would like to do that.

After dinner, Steve says the dishes can wait with a lazy smile and he holds my hand across the table like I might float away if he doesn’t.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do the others call you captain?”

He blinks. “Uh, well, I’m a captain. Or I used to be, technically I stopped being a captain when I died. But I technically also wasn’t a captain in the first place so,”

I watch him and he seems to have trouble focusing under my gaze.

“You were a sergeant. Like an actual one, not just a guy in tights.”

I nod. I remember tights. I remember Steve’s tights.

“Sergeant Barnes in the 107th. You don’t remember that, do you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t, I don’t remember me. I remember you. You had a star on your chest.”

He smiles and nods. “Yeah, I did.”

I look at his chest now, a t-shirt is stretched over it. But I can remember it used to have a star on it. And before that, a tie. Before that, buttons. Before that, stripes.

“We were small.” I murmur.

Steve watches me closely. “We were just kids when we met.”

I put my hand on my head. “When—when was that? Where am I??”

Steve stands quickly, pulling my hand down gently. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

I shake my head. “What about Steve, what about Steve, shit, who’s gonna take care of him, he doesn’t have anybody, Davis, he’s all alone.”

Davis tries to hug me but I push him away.

“What the fuck am I doin’ in this stupid war!” I snap and kick the table.

Davis flinches.

I put my face in my hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just miss him so bad.”

Davis touches my hand. I look up. Steve looks worried. He’s holding my hands very lightly. I feel sick. I remember kicking the table but I don’t remember what I said.

“I wanna go to bed now.” I say.

Steve nods. “Can you walk?”

I try standing. It works out but I hold on to Steve anyway and we go to the bedroom.

“You’ll stay with me?? Will you please stay with me??” I grab his shirt tight but he nods and strokes the back of my hands.

“Of course I will. I’m right here, Buck. Come on.” He pulls me to his chest and we lie down. I feel better when he’s this close. It’s not long before I go to sleep.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Snow_   
_Lemon_   
_Broom_   
_Shovel_   
_Jerk_


	8. Snow Day

When I wake up, Steve isn’t in bed with me, but I don’t panic, I know he is always close and he says that I sleep a lot so he must do things while I’m asleep. I feel much better. When I go in to the living room Steve is just emerging from the bathroom with wet hair.

He smiles at me, though he looks worried. “Hey Bucky. How are you feeling?”

“I feel alright.”

“Want some breakfast?”

I nod but I’m not hungry. I just fix cereal so Steve doesn’t have to do anything. He sits with me though.

I swallow. I have to find the courage to speak sometimes. I have to remember how to talk sometimes too. “Can we go out today?”

He blinks and smiles. “Like to the store?”

“To the snow. I like it outside.”

“Of course. We don’t have to go anywhere at all, we can just go for a walk. I'll show you Central Park, it’s much nicer than it used to be.” He grins.

I nod. I don’t remember Central Park, but I think Steve knows that.

We get dressed around noon, I convince Steve to let me wear one less layer this time.

When we go outside I hold his hand tight and listen to the sound of my footsteps crunching in the snow. We don’t talk. For a while we just walk around and I don’t mind.

When we get to the park I sigh. It’s beautiful, I don’t remember anything like it. Steve watches me very happily and for a very long while we just wander through the park together.

I look around and I notice Steve is sticking his tongue out. I ask him why.

He laughs. “I was trying to catch snowflakes on my tongue. We used to do it when we were kids, god only knows why.”

I frown and I stick my tongue out but it just feels cold and inefficient so I put it back in my mouth and lean down to just grab a handful of snow.

“Here, Steve, just take this.”

He laughs and takes a bite out of the lump of snow in my hand.

I blink and make a very alarmed sound.

He laughs even more. “Relax, Bucky, you can eat snow. It’s part of why it’s fun.”

I take a bite. It’s just cold.

Steve smiles. “When we were kids my ma used to put syrup on panfuls of snow to make us candy.”

I nod. “Yeah, she did.”

He blinks. “You remember?”

“No. I mean.” I struggle. “Yeah, I remember the taste.”

He scoops up a handful of snow and starts shaping it in to a ball. “Remember this?”

I shake my head.

He grins. “You throw it at people, like this.” He swings his arm and the snowball flies in to a tree.

I can feel myself smiling, because I know I almost remember, but I don’t quite understand.

“Is it to hurt them?”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s for fun.”

“For fun.” I nod to myself. I can remember fun, I can remember fun in the snow, I almost remember. “Like this?” I take the remaining snow in my hand and hit Steve in the face with it. Very softly, I don’t ever want to hit Steve hard.

Steve squeaks and gasps then gives me a shocked smile. “I am so gonna get you back!”

We let go of each other’s hands, Steve grabs a snowball, I run for cover and my heart is beating fast but it’s a new feeling.

It’s not beating fast because I am afraid. I scoop up snow and throw it at Steve, but it doesn’t work out, I remember it has to be a ball first, I take my gloves off so I can feel more.

One good shot, I hit Steve in the face again, he falls over laughing.

I laugh at him but he takes the opportunity to chuck a snowball at me and it finds its mark, easily.

It’s cold and it’s startling and it’s fun and we keep throwing snowballs at each other till Steve is laughing so hard he can’t even sit up.

I stomp through the snow and check on him. He looks beautiful, he’s lying there in the snow and his cheeks are pink and his nose is pink and I offer a hand to pull him up but instead he pulls me down there with him.

I gasp and I grab more snow but he’s rolling on to his stomach and getting up.

I grab his ankle and he falls back down and I throw more shapeless handfuls of snow at him and he laughs and there’s another ten minutes of trying to put snow in each other’s shirts before we both pause to catch our breath.

Steve sits up first. “You okay?”

I nod and sit up. “I’m very cold.”

He smiles and he looks so soft. “We’ll buy hot chocolate on the way home. Do you remember hot chocolate?”

I shake my head.

“Come, on.” He stands and helps me up, frowning when he grabs my hand. “Where are your gloves?”

I shrug.

“Gosh, Buck, here, take mine.” He starts pulling his off but I stop him.

“You need yours.”

“At least put one on your right hand?” he pulls off one of his gloves and tries to give it to me.

I shake my head.

He huffs. “Fine.” He grabs my bare hand with his bare hand and puts them both in his coat pocket. It’s much warmer than gloves.

I smile and stay close to him while we walk. We don’t go to the grocery store again, this time it’s just a little corner store on the way home. He buys boxes that say hot chocolate on them and we keep moving towards his apartment, the sun now hanging low in the sky.

I think we’ve been out for too long. God I feel cold. And everything feels so familiar, my hand in Steve’s pocket.

We’re in front of the apartment when a bitter wind blows and I try to cuddle closer to Steve while we walk.

“God, it’s cold out here, Stevie, let me in there.” I stick my nose under his scarf and against his cheek.

He shivers a little, I know my nose is cold. “We’re almost home, Bucky, don’t worry.”

Sounds like him, little punk always tries to convince me he’s not too cold when he definitely is. I pull him closer by the pocket. “You’re breathin’ alright?”

He pauses and glances at me. There’s a thousand different things in his eyes and it takes him a second to respond. “Yeah, I’m breathing just fine. Promise.”

“Good.” I mumble as I push my hands inside his coat. “Can’t tell if you’re burnin’ up or if I’m just freezing.” I nuzzle further in to his scarf. “You know the best way to keep warm on nights like these, dontcha?” I grin against his skin.

He stammers. “C-come on, Bucky, we gotta get home.”

“Don’t worry,” I slide a hand up and tilt his face towards me. “We’re the only ones dumb enough to be out here.”

His face is flushed, he’s opened his mouth to say something but can’t seem to remember how to speak.

I grin. I like him this way, he’s got such a smart mouth most of the time, I like it when I can leave him breathless.

I kiss him, real soft.

I frown a little and pull away slowly. I don’t know what that was. I don’t know who that was. I liked it, I like talking to Steve like that.

I like touching Steve like this.

Steve sucks in a sharp breath like he forgot to breathe for a minute. “Bucky?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay, don’t worry.” He watches me. He looks so sad, his eyes are wet, he looks like he’s breaking.

“I-I won’t do that again, I’m sorry,” I touch my lips, this must be it. This is what I always forget, this is what’s been upsetting him. Maybe I shouldn’t be touching him like this anymore.

He’s staring at me now, though. “You won’t do what?”

“O-o-our mouths…” I don’t remember what it’s called. I try to pull away but he pulls me back.

“You remember??”

I nod.

“All of it?”

I nod again.

He pulls me closer, he hugs me like I'll die if he lets go. “That’s—that’s great! Bucky this is good!”

I blink and give him a confused look when he lets go and looks at me again.

Now he’s wiping at his eyes but he’s smiling too.

“Why are you crying?” I clench my fists by my sides. I don’t understand. I've messed up. I know it.

He laughs. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just happy.”

“So, everything is okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine, are you okay?” he reaches down and holds my hands. He’s smiling at me.

“I can touch you like that?”

He swallows and I can’t tell if his cheeks are getting redder because of the cold or because of me. “Y-yeah, if you want to, if it makes you happy.” He gives me a much gentler smile. “It makes me happy, but that doesn’t mean you have to do it, Bucky. Okay?”

I nod.

“Come on, let’s get somewhere warm.” He holds my hand tight and we hurry back to his apartment, where he makes hot chocolate and does everything he can to make sure I’m warm enough.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Stevie_   
_Long-johns_   
_Snowball_   
_Shiver_   
_Chocolate_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was totally a point in Steve and Bucky's lives together when they only had one pair of gloves between them I'm positive. Also, the scenes in the snow were actually kind of the driving factor behind this entire fic, I really wanted to do it after reading [this post](http://huffleprincess.tumblr.com/post/104255390859) on tumblr.


	9. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remembering one of his flashbacks for the first time has some after effects.

Things are getting kind of confusing now. There are no more times when I don’t remember anything and Steve is upset, but now there are times when I’m different and I talk different and I want to put my hands all over every inch of Steve but Steve looks wrong. It’s like I can’t even remember how he’s supposed to look.

He’s not supposed to be so tall.

I try to be normal and it’s okay, Steve is happy about everything I remember, even when I remember Russia. But then it gets hard to talk to Steve. When I don’t want to tear all his clothes off and make him moan, I want to tear all his skin off and make him scream.

I can’t sleep all the time like I used to, I can barely sleep at all. I try to pretend I can sleep so Steve won’t worry, but I can tell he knows I’m different.

It’s been four days, I think, since we played in the snow and made hot chocolate.

Steve is cleaning right now, I’m sitting on the couch. Steve keeps glancing at me. I try to focus on his eyes whenever he does, but my vision is hazy.

My hands are shaking. I didn’t feel like this a second ago.

Did I?

I need to focus, I need to focus.

What was I focusing on? My mission. I need to focus on my mission. If I cannot succeed I will be punished.

My mission.

If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be punished.

“Bucky! Stop!”

The target struggles. I flip the knife in my right hand and use my left to overpower him. The knife almost meets his throat but he knocks in to my hand just in time and it grazes his chest instead.

“Bucky it’s me! It’s Steve! It’s Steve!”

If I cannot succeed I will be punished. If I cannot succeed I will be pnusdhie. If I cannot uescdec I lilw be **supnedih. If I c annto ccsueed** I  iwll eb peniuhds. If I **ctanno dcs ~~cuee I~~** ~~lwil eb puhisen~~ d. Fi I nncoat ucsce **ed I wlil ~~eb~~** ~~iushpnde. If I atcnon~~ suecc **ed I wlil be** **punesdhi.**

The target flips us. My wrists are pinned. I wait for the final blow. I have failed to fulfill my mission.

 _@if <_ **^I*** ~~cnaont **ccse**~~ **#ed** I wl &l eb ni **p ~~ush~~** ~~de. If I cn _at_~~ _no euec **scd I li**_ **wl eb ip ues**dhn. **~~On~nl^% bii&depcued$#$%iiiw^&lesu#$afcesh***ntc&%~~**.

“Bucky, please,” the target is sobbing. The target puts his forehead against my shoulder. “Please, remember,” Steve sobs.

I stop struggling. I remember. I do remember. I remember everything.

_Words I remembered today:_

_Jaded immense fork belligerent detect film spotless thundering tremble tight high-pitched pencil zebra sheep murky uttermost undesirable prefer condition regret depressed love wrathful week yarn painstaking icky greet love unusual parsimonious tame juvenile secret nebulous hideous safe snails rainstorm found snobbish fax string spark receive hot majestic sniff freezing unequaled march cast absorbing lock callous pickle window mute hurry unwieldy shelter match complex minor love thoughtful stretch stop point check love spade slave shop nation innate lewd arrive exotic furniture upset clumsy violent argue pushy ethereal lumber fireman flow ill-fated love unnatural pump houses mice vest contain stove cycle whirl allow aromatic flight ambitious argument describe bridge bat notice taste aberrant love zipper linen roll swanky quaint nod unlock light industrious creepy donkey striped mist suspend airport scarecrow channel love supreme income important shave existence placid extra-large peck company impossible provide clever good sprout gamy rustic gaping handle love foolish possible spill pour library cars kick hanging infamous love direction disastrous blushing unbiased physical chivalrous dear rough previous love seemly enchanting icicle texture trouble love cooing highfalutin cause question hungry example materialistic bubble title ratty broken solid ten hall brawny nervous concern nutty beef rings statuesque well-off moan type education agreement doubtful lonely elite aftermath invite chase standing measure uneven imminent friend mean love breakable present shocking river stop equal same ambiguous decisive sister wave picture rigid middle representative orange store jail skip attach comb head shiny jail pink beautiful flock silk cheat squealing chop rotten interfere hospital chance certain languid purpose shiver try tart mug bee grain love astonishing volatile men…_

Everything is black. I’m floating.

_…school face pricey peaceful love brake graceful dust arrange plucky female…_

I try to open my eyes but they’re too heavy. I try to speak, but my lips are heavy too.

_…greet soup office sturdy sponge lip familiar attraction love lake rejoice coal whip bore stuff attend…_

I hear a sound. Someone is crying. People are talking. Steve is crying. Fuck, Steve is crying. I make my eyes open. I’m lying on the ground.

Bruce Banner is sitting next to me. Bruce Banner nearly jumps out of his skin when I open my eyes. “Uh, guys,” he says, shuffling backwards and away from me.

I try to look around but I’m still having trouble moving.

“Guys, looks like he’s not dead!” Bruce stands, he’s stopped backing up now but he looks prepared to run.

Steve is suddenly next to me, though I can hear several voices shouting at him to stop.

He winces as he kneels down and touches my face.

I speak hoarsely before he says anything. “I remember.”

He sighs and relaxes and just strokes my hair.

I close my eyes again, because I’m tired. I don’t sleep though, I just lie there for a while, maybe thirty minutes, until I can sit up. Steve is close, he carefully supports me with one hand, though judging by the way he’s holding his side, I’m not actually the one who needs supporting.

I look around just in time to see Sam rush through the front door. Bruce, Tony, Clint and a woman I don’t recognize are also present.

For the first time, Sam looks almost like he could be angry.

I raise my hands as he walks towards Steve. “He’s not dead. Promise.”

Steve glances at me as Sam helps him to his feet. Sam just looks at Steve silently for a long time and I can see all the anger and reparations communicated in his eyes.

But I can also see all the concern and after a soft apology, Steve hugs him tight.

After they part, Sam turns to Bruce, greeting him with a firm handshake and saying, “So, what’s the damage?”

Steve sits back down on the floor next to me, Clint and the woman start cleaning medical supplies from the dining table and everything seems alright until Tony scoffs and gestures at me. “Um, so, we’re just gonna leave Dr. Jekyll loose?”

Everyone turns and looks at him.

He continues. “Or are we gonna pretend he _didn’t_ just try to kill Steve?”

Steve is already opening his mouth defensively, but Bruce steps forward first and says, “Let’s not get too hasty, I just watched him go from no pulse to sitting up and talking, he’s obviously not entirely in control of his faculties.”

“Exactly, do we really want to leave a highly trained assassin who may or may not be able to control himself unsupervised? This isn’t even a question I should have to be asking. There have already been two incidents, not to mention the _first_ time he almost killed star-spangled pecs.”

“So just because he can become dangerous under stress, he should be locked up? Would you like to lock me away too, Tony?” Bruce says.

“Yeowch, somebody burned last night’s dinner.” I mutter, watching them closely.

Steve looks back at me with wonder in his eyes. He speaks quietly so the others can’t hear over Tony and Bruce. “Bucky, are you…are you you?”

I glance at Steve but then I glance away, I can’t meet his eyes. “I’m something.” I say softly, staring down at my hands. What used to be my hands, anyway, I don’t know if I can even call this body mine anymore.

“Do you remember everything?” He looks concerned, he reaches for my hand but I flinch and he stops.

“Kinda.” I shrug. “I remember you.”

“That’s good.” He sighs heavily and puts his forehead on my shoulder again. “I’m thankful for that.”

I blink a little. God Steve always was an idiot. Practically went looking for fights. It’s no surprise he’s not afraid of me. I run my fingers through his hair.

I look back at Bruce and Tony. They’re too close. The woman is trying to interrupt them. Bruce keeps brushing her off, telling her this is a conversation long overdue.

I raise my hand. “He’s right.” I say, loud enough to get their attention.

Steve lifts his head. Everyone seems to have forgotten I can speak. They all look at me.

“I’m dangerous. I should be locked away. I want to keep Steve safe.”

“Bucky!” Steve trembles.

I hold his hand and whisper to him, “It’s okay, Steve.”

“There, problem solved.” Tony shrugs.

Bruce and Sam both turn worried looks on me.

Sam speaks first. “James, we don’t even know what our options are,”

I stroke Steve’s hand with my thumb. “Is there somewhere that can hold me?”

Bruce looks down.

Tony nods. “I have a facility in my tower, bullet proof glass, it doesn’t currently have guards but I can have some hired within the hour. It’s not far from here, Cap can still see him.”

“Take me there.” I try to pull away from Steve but he holds me.

“If you go, I’m going with you.” He says defiantly.

“Steve, they’re not gonna lock you up too.” I smile. I love him so much. He’s the best kind of idiot.

He looks heartbroken when I smile. “You can’t,” he whispers. “You’re finally back. You can’t leave now.”

“You know this is all very sweet and melodramatic,” the woman says, stepping forward. “But I think I might know a solution that doesn’t include locking away a mental patient or getting our favorite captain killed.”

“Who are you again?” I frown at her.

“My name is Maria Hill. I work for Tony Stark. But I used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D., I don’t know if you remember S.H.I.E.L.D., Sergeant Barnes—“

“I do.”

“Well, there are a few people, what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D., I suppose. They have some tech that might be able to help us out. I can ask them to send it over.”

“What kind of tech?” Steve tries to stand but it makes him wince so I pull him back down again.

“An instantly effective tranquilizer, it could be used on Barnes, and depending on how strong we can safely make it, knock him out for an hour or so, long enough to get him somewhere safe and away from Captain Rogers.” She looks at the group.

“But what if Steve can’t get to a tranquilizer gun in time? It’s a great solution but this time Bucky stabbed Steve before he was able to get him under control.” Bruce points out.

“I stabbed you?” I whip my head around.

Steve nods and lifts his shirt to show bandages on both sides of his abdomen.

I run my hand through my hair. “I really coulda killed you.”

We both look up as Maria continues. “Well, with the tranquilizer and the technology their team uses, I thought perhaps Mr. Stark could fashion some sort of miniature device to be worn, that way regardless of where Barnes is, the tranquilizer is with him.”

“Like LifeAlert but with tranquilizer?” Tony raises an eyebrow. “That’s actually a great idea. How fast can you get me the specs?”

“Ten minutes.” Maria pulls out a cell phone.

Tony looks at everyone else. “So, who’s up for a field trip to Stark Tower?”

* * *

 

Stark Tower is beautiful. Everything is open wide and covered in windows, it’s different than I expected, all the labs I can remember were dark and sequestered in to basements.

Clint is supporting me as we walk through, turns out I’m still having a little trouble walking, something we learned the hard way when I tried to support a wounded Steve and we both fell over.

Steve is walking alright on his own now, though Sam is hovering close to him and refused to let him carry me like he wanted to.

There’s a small area with couches and a coffee pot near one of Stark’s massive computer banks, Clint, Bruce and I sit there, while Maria leaves for some important business, Sam and Steve step away for a private word and Tony opens an email and starts building the plans for fabricating parts.

I watch Sam and Steve, standing across the room, just out of earshot. I’m sure Sam is giving Steve another lecture about killing and or getting the fuck away from me if I go bad.

Steve is looking down guiltily so I wouldn’t be surprised.

I look over at Tony again, hunched at a desk, scribbling notes that I know for a fact are illegible, even though I can’t see them.

“That’s Howard’s kid isn’t it?” I say, feeling a little bit like an idiot for just connecting the dots.

Bruce blinks and looks at me. “Yeah. Did you know him?”

“Little bit. He made me a sweet rifle. I died before I got to use it, though.” I laugh, but, it doesn’t really sound like a laugh, it sounds like stale bread.

It doesn’t take long to get what we came for, and Stark seems real keen on getting me out of his tower and out of his life as fast as possible.

Clint and Sam come home with us, we watch TV, it’s different now, I remember so much, everything’s different now.

TV is real different, not that me and Steve got a chance to watch much. Steve always liked going to the movies though.

“They still have movies?” I look up at Steve from my spot sprawled across the couch, my head resting on his thigh.

“Uh, yeah, what do you mean?”

“You know, the theaters, soft seats, popcorn, used to get nice and dark?” I wink at him but the others don’t see.

His cheeks turn pink. “Yeah, they still have those.”

“Oh yeah?? I sit up and turn towards him. “We’ll go see one tomorrow, it’ll be swell.”

Steve’s eyes are filled with joy. “They’re amazing now. You’ll love it. They’re in color, like the TV, but thirty feet wide. Some of them even have these glasses where they make the picture jump off the screen.”

“You’re kidding me! That’s bonkers, Steve, I can’t wait to see.” I grin and Steve smiles back and for a second, I miss when his face was narrow and he was nothing but skin and bone.

But he’s still got that same smile, dazzling and relentless like the summer sun, he’s still got half a fight in his eyes and I know now for sure that his body can finally handle his heart.

I love him so damn much.

Clint fumbles and drops the remote control, it hits the wooden floor loudly and Steve and I both glance over.

Steve pretends he’s interested in what’s on TV and I go back to lying with my head on his leg.

After two days, Sam and Clint are finally satisfied and they leave together, for planes back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering...  
> Clint was there because Nat asked him to keep an eye on Steve after Sam contacted her worried about him, after the incident with Bruce.  
> Bucky stabbed Steve three times, twice on his lower left side and once on his middle right side. He also left a gash on the right side of his chest when he tried to slit his throat.  
> Bucky was dead for two hours.  
> Steve didn't kill Bucky, he didn't even hurt Bucky, the most he did was pin Bucky's wrists to the ground. Bucky, unknowingly, shut himself off. This was a last resort sort of program Hydra installed, allowing Bucky to consciously stop his own heart. But obviously with his programming deteriorating and his memories coming back, Bucky did it on accident in an attempt to save Steve.  
> His arm is programmed to send an electrical charge through his body to jump start his heart and his super-soldier body is built to withstand oxygen deprivation and other horrible things, etc, giving Hydra the ability to torture and/or freeze him.


	10. Nightmare

Being around the others can still leave me exhausted, I find myself yawning barely an hour after dinner that night.

Steve tells me to go to bed, but I ignore him, something I’m not entirely sure I was able to do before. I've been following orders for a long time and it’s nice to be a rebel again.

“I don’t like going to sleep without you.” I say as I head back in to the living room with a glass of water.

He smiles at me softly from his spot in an armchair, a sketchpad balanced on his knee. “I'll be in there in a little while.”

I lean against the wall. “Yeah, so I'll be alone.”

He glances up, looking a little concerned. “I can go to bed now. Do you want me to?”

I soften. “No, dammit, Steve,” I stride across the room, setting my glass on the coffee table. “You’re too damn sweet.” I put my hands on both arm rests and lean down to kiss his lips.

He tries to pretend he’s all calm but I can tell he’s holding his breath and I can feel his heart beating fast.

This is the first time we’ve kissed since our snow day, so I break it, I let him catch his breath, I hold his chin and I ask, “Is this alright, Captain?”

“I-I’m—it’s—are you—“ He stammers and accidentally knocks his sketchpad on to the floor. It’s hard not to laugh, he’s terrible at this, he always has been; I listened to him wreck his way through more than a few conversations with Peggy.

I pull away and stand straight again.

Steve looks at me for a long moment, his eyes going from my toes to my eyebrows. I watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath. “Everything’s—you’re alright, right?” he says finally, looking up at me with honest eyes.

I soften. “I’m about to not be if you don’t kiss me, Steven Rogers.”

He blushes pink and stands, kissing me careful like he might break me, holding my face in one hand and my waist in the other.

I feel like I've been waiting seventy years for this. 

* * *

 

Things are wonderful. Steve and I still haven’t gone to the movies yet, but I don’t mind. He’s always close, and all we really do is go to the store together, but I’m not sure if I can handle more than the store yet anyway.

Though I kind of feel like I’m trying to get home before a big storm, like I can see the dark clouds rolling in and I know I won’t make it but I’m trying anyway.

I kiss him every day, because he still seems nervous about kissing me.

It’s just a few days till Christmas now, Steve insists that we do something to celebrate.

I’m not too sure about Christmas, I’m having a little bit of trouble remembering it, which makes Steve real sad.

He promises he’ll get a tree so we can have a real Christmas, says he’ll get presents and dinner too.

I tell him it’s stupid and he doesn’t need to. His only response is to kiss me.

It’s December 20th now.

I've just woken up from a nap to discover Steve shoving an evergreen through the front door. He giggles like an excited kid as he shoves it in to the living room, admits he may have actually gone a little overboard but follows it up with a reassurance that he got plenty of ornaments.

“You’ll help me decorate it, right Buck?” he looks at me with his stupid perfect puppy eyes and I cave without any real resistance.

“’Course, Stevie. Whatever you want.”

We end up spending the day decorating the tree together and wrapping the various small gifts Steve’s brought home for the others. There’s one for Clint, two for Bruce, three for Natasha and seven for Sam. Steve’s real happy about all of them, he slides them under the tree and says we’ll give them to everybody next time we see them.

A few more gifts, ones that have my name on them also appear under the tree throughout the day, Steve is real sneaky about putting them there, I don’t see him do it but I definitely notice their appearance.

That night we sit in the living room, drinking cider and cocoa, with all the lights off except for the ones on the tree.

It’s beautiful, everything now is ten times bigger and better than anything we had as kids.

I fall asleep halfway through my hot chocolate, I can sort of feel Steve pull the cup from my hand. I can distantly hear his voice as he says, “Come on, Bucky, let’s get to bed.”

I can feel his body against mine.

Then suddenly, he’s screaming, I look around, everything’s on fire, his skin is liquefying off of his bones and I can’t help, god his voice is so awful, his screams sound like they’re melting halfway down his throat.

I sob his name, I try to grab him but I find my left hand melting in to a silvery puddle, exposing the sensors to the flames, the pain is so horrible, when I look up, Steve’s eyes have boiled out of his head.

I know what happened. I know how this happened. I set this fire.

This is all my fault.

“Bucky!!”

I open my eyes. It takes a second to focus.

Steve is looking down at me, he looks terrified but relaxes some when I look at him.

I’m shaking like I just got out of cryofreeze, I’m clutching Steve tight and when I manage to let go, I can see my left hand’s left bruises on him.

He strokes my cheek. “It was just a dream, everything’s okay,”

I nod but I know it’s not okay. I know it wasn’t just a dream. I know I burned an entire family alive under Hydra’s orders.

I know I am a monster and I don’t know if I should even be around Steve.

“Bucky, hey,” Steve watches me, looking worried.

I look back at him. “Sorry, s-sorry, I’m sorry,” my voice cracks.

He pulls me closer. “Shhh, baby, it’s alright, everything is alright.”

I wrap my arms around him tight. I cling to him like I might fall off the earth if I don’t.

I apologize again, but it’s muffled because my face is against his chest.

He strokes my hair and I manage to sleep again, only ‘cause he’s close, only ‘cause he’s holding me.

That’s just the first of many nightmares though.

Clint meant it when he said it gets worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *BONUS* Steve calling Sam about Bucky's nightmares  
> The phone's ringing. Sam knows it's Steve before he's even crossed the kitchen to grab it. He answers quickly. "Man, what you got against me enjoying a peaceful breakfast?"  
> "He had a nightmare."  
> They can both hear the smile fade from Sam's voice. "How bad?"  
> "I don't know, bad? He was screaming like he'd been shot and he kept saying my name and he wouldn't let go of me. I thought for sure it was the war but...but then he wouldn't talk about it."  
> "You never talk about it. Doesn't matter if it's a soldier's battle or special ops. I never talked about mine."  
> "Yeah, me neither, but I didn't have anyone to talk to back then. My best friend was a punching bag in a deserted gym and when you showed up--"  
> "Things changed. Yeah, I know the feeling. And you know, I can't say we're shining examples of mental health but, maybe we could at least use ourselves as some reference. He needs time."  
> "How long?"  
> "Well, we had our heart to heart...three months ago? We were in Germany right?"  
> "Yeah, in the hotel."  
> "That puts it at about two and a half years since I got home. First words I ever spoke in detail."  
> "Sam, I'm not waiting two years."  
> "How long for you? You said you started having them as soon as you woke up from the ice, right? How long's it been?"  
> "About the same." Steve huffs and it crackles in the phone speaker. Sometimes Sam thinks he spent the whole seventy years perfecting the most potent frown/sigh combo, capable of expressing even the most intense disappointment and disapproval.  
> "Steve."  
> "Yeah?"  
> "Don't worry about it."  
> "Sam, you know I can't do that."  
> "Not on your own, which is why I'm reminding you. Don't worry about it. You managed by yourself, didn't you?"  
> "Well, sort of, I _survived_ , I don't think I managed,"  
> "So, James isn't alone, he's got you. He'll manage. He'll pull through, it may take him two years just to talk about it but with you, he'll make it. Don't force anything, Steve, just get through the nightmares, take him to the gym and introduce him to that punching bag if you need to, doesn't matter. Help him cope and maybe someday he won't need to focus on coping anymore. And try not to let him kill you."  
> "Alright. I can do that, we can cope. Thanks, Sam, you know, I don't know what I'd do without you,"  
> "Uggh, don't even start. How many times are we gonna have to go over this, you're Captain freakin' America, I should be thanking you."  
> "Oh? And here I thought I was Captain Ruin Your Breakfast."  
> Sam can't help a laugh at that. "So true it's not even funny anymore. Happy holidays, Steve."  
> "Merry Christmas, Sam."


	11. Christmas Idiocy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter is kind of a train wreck but you know what i had fun there's presents the story's over now go home

I have nightmares a minimum of once a night now, maybe more. I don’t tell Steve about them when he asks if I wanna talk, because I can’t bear to tell Steve what I've done.

I keep leaving bruises on him, I try to convince him to let me sleep on the couch, but he says he can tell all I’m trying to do is protect him.

Today is Christmas Eve.

I’m exhausted, after the third nightmare last night, which was an uncomfortable and surreal mixture of memories where I was watching an American soldier I recognized bleed to death through the small window of the cryochamber I was trapped in, screaming because I couldn’t help, I decided to just stop trying to go back to sleep.

Steve has been side eyeing me with worry all day, I’m struggling to stay awake on the couch and he’s in the corner googling something.

I fall asleep sitting up for a second, I have a weird mini dream in which little kid Steve is crying on Christmas day, there’s a tree in the corner but Steve is alone. I gasp and open my eyes.

“You okay??” Steve is already putting his laptop down.

I nod and rub my face. “Can I take a nap?”

“Of course. Do you want me—“

“No, I wanna be alone.” I stand and head to the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory.

Christmas of 1928, when Steve was ten and I was eleven, I begged my mom to let me run to his house right after I opened my presents because I wanted to show him the toy plane I’d just gotten and how well it could fly.

When I got there, I discovered Steve crying alone in his living room. Later I would find out it was because his mom was crying and his mom was crying because Steve told her it was okay that there were no presents under the tree.

Though at the time I thought he was sad because he didn’t get any Christmas presents, so in about 2.5 seconds I decided to give him my brand new toy plane, I still had a cool train set at home anyway.

It cheered him up a lot, though the sweet little idiot promised me we’d share it.

Once he’d managed to stop crying, he ran straight to the bedroom of his tiny apartment and he told his ma she could stop crying because he’d gotten a present after all.

She tried to make him give it back of course, but Stevie refused because he didn’t want her to be sad anymore, because it made him so sad.

I told his mom that he could return it tomorrow, if it would make her feel better.

My mom whooped my hide when I got home, I told her I lost the plane so she wouldn’t make Steve give it back.

I ended up not playing with any of my toys that day, I just remember spending a long time marveling at the fact that there could be not a single present underneath the tiny tree in Steve’s living room and Steve would be crying ‘cause his ma was sad, not cause he didn’t get what he wanted.

So, now, it’s 2014, not 1928. I’m still with Steve and I know he’ll be sad if I’m sad and goddammit I feel like an ass already and it’s not even Christmas yet. I know I've gotta do something.

So I look around the bedroom and thank god my boots are in here, I must’ve fallen asleep with them on after Steve and I went walking last night.

Unfortunately I took off my coat at the front door so I'll just have to go without, I grab a long sleeve shirt before carefully climbing out the bedroom window and making my way to the alley three stories below.

It’s fucking cold and I try to focus on the sound of my footsteps to avoid any nasty flashbacks. I struggle with it anyway, when I see my reflection in a store window I think it’s my reflection in the window of the cryochamber and I jump off the sidewalk, people stare, but I get back to what I’m doing, the memories don’t eat up the whole world anymore, I trust myself to focus on what’s real. I think I trust myself.

I just have to get out of the cold. I start moving through back alleys to keep me better protected from the wind chill, I’m not sure where I’m going, I’m not loaded up with schematics and cartographical information before I go places anymore and it’s kind of inconvenient.

After wandering a while, I’m guessing an hour or so, I find what I’m looking for. A local electronics store, not a chain, which means it’s already closed thanks to holiday hours.

Breaking in is really easy, my metal hand can go through just about anything and it takes me three minutes to find an electronic drawing tablet and a stack of hard copies of art programs.

I shove it all in a box and head back the direction I came.

I stop at a bakery by our apartment, I've never been before but I know Steve likes their goodies, he’s always bringing home boxes with their logo on it.

I hesitate when it comes to smashing the window, Steve likes this place, so instead I quietly rip off the doorknob and the locking mechanism. They’ll have to replace the whole door, but from the street the storefront will still look normal.

They don’t have an apple cake, but they do have apple cupcakes and an apple pie, so I take those and get back to the alley by our apartment, wondering how the hell I planned on scaling the wall with all this shit.

I decide eventually that it won’t work out and take the fire escape instead, which leads to the dining room window, not the bedroom window.

It works out perfectly though, when I get in I can hear Steve saying my name in the bedroom and I just barely have time to hide the stuff under the table before I call out to tell him I’m here.

He rushes in and I feel bad, he looks upset. “I thought you were taking a nap.” He says trying to be calm.

“C-c-couldn’t sleep. I w-went for a w-walk.” Fuck, my lips are cold.

He steps forward and grabs my shoulders gently. “Without your coat? Jesus, you’re shaking like an old man.”

I am shaking. In hindsight, this was a horrible fucking plan, but I think I can blame it on sleep deprivation. His hands feel great though, fuck I’m cold, I push my body against his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

“S-sorry,” I mumble, keeping my face against him where it’s warm. “S-s-sorry, I l-love you. I love you.”

I can feel him soften, he rests his cheek against my head and strokes my hair. “It’s okay, just…don’t do that again. You scared the shit out of me, James.” He says softly. **  
**

* * *

 

I only have one nightmare that night, I don’t think I scream, Steve says I usually scream, but this time I must not because I sit up before he does.

The whole room feels weird and floaty and unreal, like it always, but then I feel Steve’s hand and I know it’s real for sure. Steve is struggling to sit up next to me, he’s still mostly asleep, he’s exhausted from how much I kept him up last night, but he’s still trying to ask me if I’m okay, his words all mashed together.

I love him so much.

I remind myself of that, it helps me shake off the bad dreams, it helps me kiss his forehead and say, “I’m fine, go back to sleep baby, I’m just gonna get some water.”

He does go back to sleep, I’m not sure if it’s cause I told him to or because he’s beat, but he lies back down and sleeps, even while I get up and tiptoe to the dining room.

I know where the wrapping paper and the bows are from when we wrapped presents for everybody and I try to make everything I got for Steve look perfect and pretty like he did with everything he wrapped but it turns out I’m no better at this than I was in 1940 and the metal fingers aren’t helping.

All of his presents come out looking like they got hit by a truck, but I slide them under the tree anyway. I’m so damn tired, it’s honestly getting hard to think clearly and with Steve’s stuff ready, I wanna get back to bed. **  
**

* * *

 

When I wake up, Steve is already awake, just lying there, staring at me.

I smile. “The hell’re you doin’, Rogers?”

Steve grins. “Just watching the sunrise.”

I roll my eyes but I’m laughing and he’s pulling me closer and smushing kisses on to my cheek while he says, “Merry Christmas, Bucky,” and I wanna live in this one moment forever.

We do just lie there for a long, long while. This bed is still cramped with the both of us, we’re both so big now, but we’ve fit in smaller places together, so I don’t guess I really mind.

Eventually, Steve sits up and stretches and boy it’s a nice view but I gotta admit I’m ready to get out of bed too.

Steve bounces to the Christmas tree like an excited little kid, “Are you ready to open your presents, Buc—“ his voice cuts off and he does a double take as he notices the pathetically wrapped presents for him.

He picks one up, gingerly. “Bucky, did you do this?”

I nod, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“How did you even…?”

I shrug. “I made it work. Go ahead, open it, pal.”

He tears off the paper. It’s the apple pie and the cupcakes I grabbed and he looks at it so lovingly.

I rub my head. “I-I know it’s not cake but pie’s really great too, and the cupcakes are cute,” I mumble.

“You remembered.” He says quietly. He looks like he’s about to cry.

I glance at him. “Well, yeah, I mean, I-I know I don’t remember everything, I’m still foggy on most the war and my time in Russia, but I remember you, Steve.”

He wipes his eyes and leans forward to kiss me and I blush because I didn’t realize a few stolen pastries would mean so much to him, but now I’m sure the walk in the snow was worth it.

He makes me open my presents next. The first one is a box full of replacement metal plates for my arm, including ones for the ball of my shoulder that have a white star on them, rather than a red one.

He blushes the whole time I’m opening it and when it’s all out he says, “I thought maybe you’d like that more, all my stars are white, so,”

“It’s perfect.” I grin at him and he says we can have Stark put them on later.

Steve also gives me an excess of comfy sweaters because he’s not sure I’m staying warm enough, a smartphone with a flip out keyboard that has actual buttons because I have trouble using a touch screen with my left hand, and a gift card to a movie theater a few blocks away, so we can see that movie we’ve been meaning to see forever now.

Once I've opened all of this, I point out to Steve that there’s still a poorly wrapped box by the tree and he blinks and opens it.

It’s the drawing tablet and he seems confused at first but then his eyes get wide.

“You plug it in to your computer and you have all the colors in the world with just one pen. Which is great ‘cause, I mean, ‘cause you can see all the colors now, right?” I say, I’m not sure he likes it.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I can, I just—how did you get—how do you even know about these, Buck?”

“Once, they had to rebuild my arm and they made me stay awake for 87 hours during the process, I spent a long time just watching the head engineer and he had one of those.”

Steve stares at me.

“I remember it, uh, really well actually,” I run my fingers through my hair. “I think I killed that engineer, they put me back in the chair right after.”

Steve reaches out and gently holds my hand and I don’t realize that I’m shaking until he touches me. I try to apologize but my voice catches and he hushes me and puts the tablet aside so he can pull me into his lap.

It only lasts a minute, I have to take deep breaths ‘cause I feel sick and I don’t really wanna remember but I feel better after a second and Steve tells me we have tons of delicious Christmas food and the pastries I got and that I can pick what we eat first while he calls Sam to wish him a merry Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering...  
> Yes, Steve knows all the presents are stolen. He knew that the second he saw them and yes he did contact both store owners and pay for all damages and also apologize several times and also, yes, he did give an autograph to the guy who owns the electronic store, because he's a huge fan and can't believe Captain America just showed up to help out with his trashed store.  
> And yes, also the two daughters of the owner of the bakery are also huge fans and yes he did also give them autographs and yes, the baker literally refused to let him leave without a key lime pie.  
> And yes, Bucky did get a small lecture about how stealing is not a thing to do and Bucky was actually kind of upset and promised never to do it again but it was mostly because Steve's frown/sigh combo was so powerful Bucky couldn't withstand it, not so much because Bucky doesn't wanna steal things


End file.
